


Inkling

by Ketakoshka



Series: Monster Jon [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Arson, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Basira Hussain is Ashes, Canon Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Chatting & Messaging, Drinking Games, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jon gets tattoos of people he cares about, M/M, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Multi, Nikola Orsinov is Toy Soldier, Other, Polyamorous Character, Queerplatonic Relationships, Tattoos, The Mechanisms Were The Archivist's College Band, Twitter, jon cries ink, jon doesn't give a damn, jon keeps making friends with avatars, the beholding pretends to be Jon's cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25235719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketakoshka/pseuds/Ketakoshka
Summary: Jonathan Sims has been marked from his first moment... Stillborn, but so very wanted... The End brings him back, and the Eye isn't so keen on letting him die again.There's many ways for an archivist to be marked.***Part crack-fic and part serious.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Mr. Spider, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives) & Nikola Orsinov, Michael | The Distortion/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Nikola Orsinov & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Oliver Banks/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Oliver Banks/Martin Blackwood, Oliver Banks/Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, The Beholding & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, The Beholding/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, the mechs are basically siblings/best friends
Series: Monster Jon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843834
Comments: 270
Kudos: 636





	1. The Promotion

**Author's Note:**

> In all chapters after this one, I'll list what chat name belongs to which character.
> 
> It's going to be a bit slower before the absolute madness.

“I would like you to become the Head Archivist, Jon.”

There’s the smarmiest edge to Elias Bouchard’s face as leans back in his chair. For the most part, his gaze lies solely on the face of the young man across from him, but he can’t help but give the rest of his available clothing a once over. Part of him wants to admonish the other for baggy, purple sweater and fuzzy, gray sweatpants, but he’s powerless to a simple fact of life: Jonathan Sim’s doesn’t give a damn what he thinks.

“Do I still get to bring in my cat?”

That question gives Elias a start, and his eyes flit over to the black cat staring at him with something close to disdain. He contemplates saying no; he really does; but Jon is unlikely to accept the offer if he can’t keep… What’s its name again?

 _“Eyeris,”_ his mind helpfully supplies.

Again, he’s struck with the irony of that name, and it softens the edge of his smile. It’s a perfect name for an institute pet, even if… The softness disappears as Elias returns his gaze to Jon’s impassive face.

“Of course,” he says and drops his pen to the desk. “Will you take the job?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Excellent… However there is one favor I’d like to ask of you.” A small thrill slides up his spine when he sees the way his subordinate stiffens. “I would like your opinion on who you’d like for your assistants.”

Jon blinks at him. “M-my what?”

“Your assistants. I expect that you’ll need at least three at the present time. It would be very difficult to sort through the mess Gertrude left behind if you did it all on your own.” 

Eyeris jumps over the armrests to nestle itself in its owner’s lap; its brilliant green eyes turn to seek out Jon’s, and in that moment, all tension in his shoulders and spine eases. He slides a hand down Eyeris’ spine, jostling the purple collar, and stares back into its gaze.

“I have a couple of ideas,” Jon says, but he doesn’t look up from Eyeris. “I will have to talk to them first…” Finally, he looks up into Elias’s pale blue eyes, and all of the casual, dismissive bite bleeds back into his expression and voice. “I think I can have ideas for you by the end of the night.”

“That will work… I’m looking forward to your ideas.”

* * *

**“Eyeris is the Best Kitty”**

_Friday, 10:23_

**_Eyeris Slave is online._ **

**Fantastic Flirt:** YO! what the hell did Bitchard want?

 **Collective Braincell:** did he finally yell at you for not wearing shoes?

 **Eyeris Slave:** i don't think he noticed tbh. my socks are black today so…

 **Eyeris Slave:** he wants me to the head archivist

 **Fantastic Flirt:** what????

 **Fantastic Flirt:** lik no offense but your not qualified for the position right?

 **Eyeris Slave:** not at all

 **Collective Braincell:** so you’re leaving research?

 **Eyeris Slave:** yea. i took the job but i’m not going alone. apparently, i have to have assistants… and i want you guys to be two of them.

 **Collective Braincell:** really? you better not be fucking around SimsTM

 **Collective Braincell:** that’s like what a £3 raise

 **Collective Braincell:** i’m so fucking in

 **Fantastic Flirt:** me too

 **Collective Braincell:** who else is going to be an assistant??

 **Fantastic Flirt:** pls no one boring

 **Eyeris Slave:** don’t kno. i’m supposed to give Bitchard my choices tnt but idk anyone other than you guys rly

 **Fantastic Flirt:** thats sad

 **Eyeris Slave:** you’re sad

 **Eyeris Slave:** but if you’ve got ideas i wouldn’t be against listening

_10:52_

**Collective Braincell:** martin

 **Eyeris Slave:** huh?

 **Collective Braincell:** martin blackwood. curly ginger hair, tons of freckles, drinks more tea than is healthy

 **Fantastic Flirt:** hells yea! seconded

 **Eyeris Slave:** aight. well we have to ask him first

 **Fantastic Flirt:** i could probly get him to say yes

 **Eyeris Slave:** press x to doubt

 **Collective Braincell:** press x to doubt

 **Fantastic Flirt:** hey! no one can resist my charms

**_Fantastic Flirt added Blackerwood to the chat._ **

**_Eyeris Slave changed Fantastic Flirt’s name to Asking for a Felony_ **

**Eyeris Slave:** i did

 **Asking for a Felony:** bc ur unflirtable

 **Blackerwood:** wtf is this?

 **Asking for a Felony:** eyy martin!!!! this is tim btw… jon’s getting moved to the archive with sasha and me and we wanted to know if u wanted in

 **Blackerwood:** huh? really?? but jon’s been in research for years????

 **Blackerwood:** wait…

 **Blackerwood:** you want me to move to the archive too?

 **Collective Braincell:** yeah! (this is sasha btw)

 **Eyeris Slave:** you wouldn’t be in this chat if we didn’t want to ask you

 **Collective Braincell:** that’s Jon btw

 **Blackerwood:** uh… idk.

 **Blackerwood:** its a really nice offer but im not sure i should

 **Asking for a Felony:** £3 raise

 **Asking for a Felony:** also casual dress boss. lik no one will bat an eye if we show up in tshirts cos jon dresses like an absolute hobo

 **Eyeris Slave:** i do not

 **Eyeris Slave:** also not to rush you or anything but i have to send an email to bitchard by tnt

 **Eyeris Slave:** so the sooner i kno the better

 **Asking for a Felony:** ypu havent worn shoes here for 4 weeks

 **Asking for a Felony:** you*

 **Blackerwood:** can i get back to you by the end of day??

 **Eyeris Slave: @Asking for a Felony** youre just upset i turned you down

 **Eyeris Slave: @Blackerwood** thats fine

 **Asking for a Felony:** ah… that reminds me jon. your due for a new nickname

**_Asking for a Felony changed Eyeris Slave’s name to The Unflirtable_ **

**The Unflirtable:** rly tim

 **The Unflirtable:** your a fucking child

* * *

**"The Aurora"**

_Friday, 11:12_

**_D'Ville is online._ **

**D'Ville:** guess what motherfuckers

**_Nastya is online._ **

**Nastya:** you got called up to the principal's office

 **D'Ville:** well yea but… why is the important part

**_Ashes, ToySoldier, Keeper of the Admiral and Drumbot are online._ **

**Keeper of the Admiral:** is it because you stopped wearing shoes again?

 **Drumbot:** hr complaint?

 **ToySoldier:** You used crayons on official forms again?

 **Ashes:** fucked tim in the backroom?

**_Gunpowder, Ivy, Raum and Raphaella are online._ **

**Gunpowder:** you rang?

 **Ashes:** work tim, not you

 **Gunpowder:** that’s cold

 **D’Ville: @Ashes** jesus christ. also i have made it 4 weeks without shoes and i’m thinking i might have to up my game

 **Raphaella:** we give. what’d you do now??

_9 people liked this comment_

**D’Ville:** first of all fuck you

 **D’Ville:** second of all i got promoted to head archivist

_9 people liked this comment_

**Keeper of the Admiral:** congrats dude!

 **Ivy:** you can still bring Eyeris to work right?

 **D’Ville:** bitchard wouldn’t dare tell me no

_6 people liked this comment_

**ToySoldier:** Not to be annoying, but have you told Michael yet??

 **D’Ville:** no…

 **ToySoldier:** You need to right this second, Jonathan! He’s coming to get you for tea afterwork, remember??

**_D’Ville is offline._ **

**_D’Ville is online._ **

**D’Ville:** texting michael rn btw. don’t worry nikki

 **ToySoldier:** Good! You know how he gets when you forget.

 **D’Ville:** don’t remind me

**_D’Ville is offline._ **

**Nastya:** all hail chat mom nikki

 **Gunpowder:** hail!

 **Ashes:** hail!

 **Raphaella:** hail!

 **Drumbot:** hail!

 **Ivy:** Hail!

 **Raum:** hail!

 **Keeper of the Admiral:** pls tell me your secrets nikki

 **ToySoldier:** Nah.

* * *

**“Michael”**

_Friday, 11:30_

so, you’re picking me up for afterwork tea

right?

Yes.

What Did You Do?

got a promotion

That’s Not A Bad Thing???

to head archivist

Well… Fuck.

…

_12:15_

are you mad at me?

_13:27_

i can walk myself home

if you don’t want to see me

i get it

_14:26_

Will You Keep Your Promise?

yes

i promise

_14:39_

I Will Meet You At Our Normal Place.

okay

* * *

**“The Aurora”**

_14:43_

**_D’Ville is online._ **

**D’Ville:** if i go missing, michael did it

* * *

**“Eyeris is the Best Kitty”**

_15:17_

**Blackerwood:** i’m in.

 **The Unflirtable:** then i’ll see you monday morning

* * *

**“The Aurora”**

_22:15_

**D’Ville:** i think i threw up in michael

 **Ashes:** on*?

 **D’Ville:** i said what i said


	2. Tea with the Distortion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Jon wound up vomiting in Michael's hallway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is more interlude than super important, but I thought it would be cute. The café will show up in later chapters too.

The cafe is nearly empty when Jon arrives.

A hazy-eyed waitress with a honey-drenched smile gestures for him to take his seat across from the rail-thin monster at the center-most table, and with his own saccharine grin, Jon does so. Eyeris then jumps from his shoulder with the barest edge of a mewl and pads into the kitchenette to give them some semblance of privacy.

Michael gives the cat a small smile before turning his attention on Jon. “We will talk about your promotion some other time.” He unfirls his knife-pointed fingers in an invitation for the trusting touch of human hands against his own.

“I won’t be like Gertrude,” Jon whispers and lays his hands into the cradle before him. 

Michael curls his fingers around Jon’s hands, his knives ever present and ever dangerous, but Jon shows no fear of the avatar’s touch. “I know you won’t.” The flat of his right thumb slides against flesh. “But we will talk about the job at another time.”

“I-”

“Another time,” Michael growls, and a low rumbling sound rolls from his body, through every available piece of flesh. “Not in this place. Not in  _ our _ place.”

Jon nods sharply. “Not in our place.”

At last, the waitress nears, her hazy eyes looking more hollowed with each minute and her body growing lankier, thinner… distorted. She sets down two black cups with delicate white spirals snaking down the side and steps back into the kitchen on two different legs.

"How was your day beyond the thing that won't be mentioned?" Michael asks, breaking Jon out of his cataloging.

He glances once more at the broken woman before she disappears through the yellow door at the back. A sigh breaks past his lips as he lifts the cup up to his mouth but doesn't yet drink. “Well… Sasha and Tim brought another guy to our group chat. His name is Martin.”

“And?”

“I don’t really know anything about him, to be honest.” Jon grips the cup harder and sets it down with a loud thump. “I’ve seen him before, but I don’t think we’ve really ever spoken.”

“That’s not surprising.”

At the deadpan tone, Jon huffs a small laugh and finally takes a sip of his tea; it sings of the wells hollowed deep within the earth and of the clusters of flowers high in the air just as they sour with the burgeoning of new fruit. “Blood orange caylon?” he inquires and watches as Michael’s face glimmers with amusement.

“I thought you’d enjoy something different. You’ve been drinking darjeeling quite a bit lately.”

"It's good."

"Anything new on the bitch boss front?"

"Well, I haven't worn shoes in 4 weeks now. Rosie has a little parade of origami animals that are supposed to be paperwork for bitchard, but she likes them so much that he won't take them from her. Storage got a book that screams every time you open it, so I'm going to try sneaking it out and leaving it open in his office. And Eyeris bit bitchard."

Michael snorts at the last sentence and calls out, "you're not so bad, cat!" The answering meow is somehow condescending and appreciative.

They sit in companionable silence as the sun begins to slide past the apartment buildings across the street, but they don't really seem to notice. It's only when a shadow touches their table and Jon drinks the last dregs of his second cup that they make note of the hour.

Michael stands abruptly and holds out his hand. "Will you come into my hallway with me?"

With a smile, Jon takes the offered hand and croons, "don't I always?"

* * *

The hallway is full of soft light that casts the barest edges of shadows around the baseboards. The walls are both a sickening yellow and cornflower blue, and the floor sports a spiral covered runner. It's soft and stiff all at once under Jon's feet, but he pays the texture no mind; he's more preoccupied with the avatar's humanoid form.

Michael has abandoned the remnants of his human form for the distorted creature that holds Jon tight against his chest; it took ages for him to come to terms that Jon doesn't give a damn what he looks like. But now he knows… He knows how Jon sees the avatars… He knows that Jon is far more monstrous than he first appears.

It would be hypocritical to judge the others.

There’s a humming song in the hall; a cutting whisper that coaxes the mind to bend and bend until the body itself breaks, but for Jon, it’s a lullaby, a crooning note of instability and change. It promises only the things that the mind struggles to imagine… and Jon Knows.

The song spills deep into his veins and slides down the length of his bones. His eyes glow with the ethereal green of the beholding’s blight, and his lips mouth the words of a long-lost prayer. The song hums through his bones and trills through his brain as the spiral let’s itself be Known.

All at once, it’s perfect and too much, and Jon pulls back from Michael’s arms. His back hits the wall as his eyes roll up in the back of his head. Ink drips from tear ducts and paints his face with lightning reminiscent of his mechanism makeup.

“Jon!” Michael surges forward to pull his friend back into his embrace, hoping that his grounding presence will be enough to recenter him, but before he can grab Jon, the man suddenly pitches forward and vomits. Michael then holds him by the shoulder, his free hand rubbing at the man’s back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. He can feel the nodes of Jonathan’s spine, and he’s reminded of how little the other eats without Eyeris’s insistence.

Soon, the heaving stops, but they remain as they are. “Are you okay?” Michael asks, “did you Know again?”

“Yes… it felt so right.”

Michael’s struck with the reminder that Jon’s been marked by a rival fear… He’s known that he might lose his friend since he first met Eyeris and realized what horror watched over Jon. Still...

“Don't leave me,” he whispers and pulls the other close, a sharp hand carding through dark hair.

Jon grabs his hand and pushes it to his collarbone, just over the soft spiral tattooed there. “You're always with me, Michael.” Then he touches his face, gathering trails of lightning. His finger finds the ridge of the scar on Michael's

neck, the memory of their first dance when Jon accidentally stabbed him. It darkens with the touch of his monstrous tears. "And I am always with you…”

Again, Jon pulls him into an embrace, and they dance until the avatar starts to relax around him. They can feel the creeping hour coming nearer, yet time has no meaning here. It’s just them and the humming from each other until Jon feels Eyeris’s worry.

They break apart until only their hands are touching, and at last, Michael’s eyes are soft and the fear has abandoned his spine.

“Will you walk me home?”

Michael nods and leads Jon through a branch of the hallway. The colors are muted and shifting towards luminous green, and the distortions hold softens slowly. They stop before a door, a faded yellow one with an eye scratched in just above the spiraled handle.

It opens into Jon’s darkened flat, and he steps through. Michael presses a kiss to his hair and vanishes into the hallway, taking the door with him. But in the quiet darkness, Jon swears he can still hear the spiral’s singing…


	3. Leitners and Tea Preferences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jon's first day as head archivist: Eyeris likes whipped cream, Rosie is a treasure, Gertrude keeps weird things, and Jon comes face to face with a book that shouldn't be in the archives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how I've managed to churn these out so quickly, but I'm going to ride this momentum for as long as I can.
> 
> I'm a sucker for soft monsters tbh. 
> 
> Michael's twitter: Michael Scissorhands @spiraling  
> Jon's twitter: Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris

Jon wakes to a single message on a Monday morning; it’s from Michael. “I Sent You 15 On Venmo. Have A Great First Day, Archivist.” He shoots back a thank you text before crawling out of the blankets, extra pillows and clean laundry that served as his cocoon most of Sunday.

After throwing up in the distortion, Jon hadn’t particularly wanted to see anyone the next day, partially out of embarrassment and a lingering headache from Knowing, but he’d promised Georgie… and more importantly the Admiral that he would be over for kitty play-time. He doesn’t know why Eyeris pretends to be so cute and innocent around Georgie, but he supposes the grooming the Admiral gives him is enough to persuade it to behave. So Sunday was subject to a lazy day in hopes that his lingering headache would go. Thankfully, the sharp bite behind his eyes is gone, but exhaustion clings to his mind like cobwebs.

Trying to wrangle his hair into anything shy of a messy bun seems like too much effort this early, so he grabs one of the many scrunchies on his bedside table and puts it up quickly. “What the hell am I going to wear?” He rifles through his closet, pushing aside sweatshirt after sweatshirt before deciding on a well-loved, black and white  _ What the Ghost? _ Hoodie. “Okay… pants? Nah. Skirt? What skirt?”

A meow sounds off behind him, drawing his attention away from the strange assortment of colors and fabrics. In the midst of the chaos, he finds Eyeris lying on a long, lavender skirt with black pinstriping.

“So that one, huh?” Eyeris chirps. “Sounds good to me.”

* * *

When you have a monstrous cat that almost never leaves your side, it can be difficult to find places that don’t bat an eye about the blob of ink wrapped around your neck and perched on your shoulder. Jon’s well acquainted with this problem, but that also means that the places he frequents like having Eyeris around. Today, that place is the Starbucks ten minutes from the institute.

“Morning, Jon, Eyeris,” the barista, Anna greets, her hands whirling together simple orders with practiced ease. “New skirt?”

“More or less,” Jon replies and reaches for his phone. “Georgie gave it to me last month, and this is only the second time I’ve worn it.”

Rafi, who’s handling cash, gives Jon an appreciative once over. “It looks good on you, man. You should wear that color more often.”

“He looks good in everything,” Anna complains.

“I dress like a hobo most of the time, Anna. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“And you rock the hobo look.”

Rafi and Jon shake their heads, so used to Anna’s comments that it’s hardly surprising; besides, there are more important questions. “So, are you and Eyeris going to be daring today?”

Eyeris gives the closest approximation to puppy dog eyes as it can muster, and Jon Knows that it will be a pain if he doesn’t appease it now. “I think a surprise is in order, as long as it has whipped cream for  _ someone _ to steal.”

“Oh?” Rafi passes over a large clear cup; it must be a cold drink then. “Something exciting happen?”

“Well, I got promoted to head archivist.”

“Congrats, man! That is exciting.”

“So is the hobo clothes going away then?” Anna asks, and Rafi affixes her with an irritated glance. “What?? It’s an honest question.”

Jon snickers and reaches up to pet Eyeris’s ears as he pays. “Well today’s actually my first day in the new job… so I’m not planning on enforcing any dress code or following it because why? It’s just heckin’ clothes.”

“Fair point.”

* * *

Jon stops just outside of the institute and sets his coffee down on the retaining wall, knowing full well that he’s going to be divested of most of the cream before he can tie his shoe. But he also knows that he has his phone, and there’s going to be a photo op in a minute. The minute he stands back up, he snaps a picture of Eyeris’s pleased expression as it licks the whipped cream off the side of the lid and chuckles quietly to himself when he gets a glare in return. “I’m posting it on twitter.” Eyeris hisses. “Doing it anyway.” 

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

that moment when your friend sends you money for starbucks and your cat tries to steal it

thanks  **@spiraling** youve made my cat into a monster

_ replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ @spiraling _

Your Cat’s Always Been A Monster

_ replying to @spiraling _

yea but a cute one

Jon looks up from his phone to find Eyeris staring down at it. “Michael says hello.” Eyeris gives him an incredulous look before allowing itself to be helped back onto his shoulder.

* * *

All beings in the institute know that Rosie Brankin is a force to be respected and feared, and it is for this reason alone that Eyeris does not stare her down as Jon passes by her in the lobby.

“Good morning, Jonathan!” Her honey eyes glitter with amusement as she takes in the younger man’s appearance; she’s always admired his carefree attitude and open disdain for proprietary, but it’s difficult to do the same when she spends most of her day as Elias’s assistant. “Ready for your first day?”

Jon laughs and walks backwards down the hall, calling out as he goes, “the better question is ‘are my new assistants ready?’”

“I sure hope so! You’re a handful at the best of times!” When Jon turns the corner, she continues up the stairs and quietly wonders how long it’ll take before Elias has another breakdown. At the current rate, she gives it until the end of next week.

There’s only one, largely unfamiliar person in the archive’s common area when Jon enters, but the larger man is familiar enough that Jon can recall the handful of times they’ve briefly spoken in the past two years. “So, are you the only one here right now?”

The other man jumps and turns around so quickly that he nearly loses balance, but that shock only silences him for so long. “Ah… yes! I’m Martin… Martin Blackwood. You’re Jonathan Sims… right?”

“Yea. You can call me Jon though, most people do.”

Martin blinks at the deadpan tone; it clearly caught him off guard again, but not for long. “Okay! Well it’s nice to meet you, Jon!”

“Nice to meet you too.” A loud meow draws Jon’s attention back to the loud pile of fur that’s abandoned its staring match with the coffee for staring at Martin. “Don’t be fucking rude.” He huffs and reaches up with his free-ish hand to scratch at Eyeris’s ears. “This hellion is Eyeris,” he offers. “It’s not used to being ignored, but feel free to do so since it stole most of my whipped cream already and I know is going to try and steal the entire cup once introductions are over.”

In indignation, Eyeris reaches up and boops Jon on the nose with a mewl.

“Eyeris!!! I brought something for you!”

Three heads turn back to the entrance as Sasha rushes in with a cup full of whipped cream. Her smile is brighter than the sun as she sets it on one of the free desks and dumps her bag against the wall. She watches as Eyeris jumps off of Jon’s shoulder, causing him to pitch slightly to the left, and leaps up onto the desk with the desperation of drowning. “So, how was the weekend?”

“It was fine,” Martin replies, “how was yours?”

“Boring… Jon?”

Part of him wants to remain silent or lie, but he knows better than to try that with Sasha. “Other than throwing up at Michael’s and being hounded for not eating Saturday night by your glorious bestie, it was aight.”

Sasha’s disappointed face is so familiar that Jon can easily mitigate the pangs of shame, but with Martin… “Did you at least eat breakfast on Sunday? Did you eat today??” The raw, unfounded concern throws Jon for a loop, and he has to struggle not to ramble out platitudes and promises that he’ll do better in the future.

“Yes, yes. I had an apple, and I’m planning on finishing my coffee in a minute.” Eyeris yowls at him. “I brought lunch too, and you know it.”

Martin looks back and forth between the two parties with a quiet sort of confusion that Sasha remembers feeling. “You’ll get used to them,” she whispers. “Eyeris is practically Jon’s keeper, and Jon’s pretty stubborn.”

By the time Tim shambles into the archive with a bruised cheek and a scratch down his neck, Martin has already claimed the desk where Eyeris is sitting, Sasha has taken the one in the far back, and Jon is sipping his drink and peeling cat hairs from the outside as he leans against the door to what he supposes will be his office now. “Ugh,” he groans, “so I’m the last one in, huh?”

“Yup,” Sasha replies. “You get that desk, bitch.”

"Figures." He dumps his bag on the ground near his designated space before looking at Martin. "I'm assuming you already met Eyeris."

"Yeah. Jon introduced me… what happened to your face and neck?"

Tim smiles slightly but there's a pained edge to the quirk of his lips. "Got hit with a tree branch while kayaking Saturday…" He rolls his eyes at Sasha and Jon's quiet snickering. "Anyone else do something embarrassing or am I the winner of the bad weekend award?"

With a grin, Sasha cheerily tells him, "Jon threw up in Michael's house."

Tim whirls around to look Jon dead in the eye. "Michael… as in the guy you go on dates with every week Michael?"

"They aren't dates, you weirdo. Michael and I are just friends… but yes, that Michael."

"Right, just friends~... But honestly, you need to let us meet this guy 'cause unless he's straighter than a goddamned arrow, there's no way that he doesn't think that-"

A loud crash cuts Tim off before he can finish the sentence that might make Jon strangle him, and the group turns to find the cat standing overtop of an overturned box. There's a pleased expression on its face at the papers dumped out onto the old carpet, and Jon Knows that there’s nothing useful in the box… no, the important thing is held in Eyeris’s jaws: an old tape recorder.

“Really?” Jon grouses but dutifully takes the offered recorder before stuffing it in his front pocket. “I suppose that would be a great box to start with, huh?” Eyeris purrs and climbs up Jon’s arm to rest comfortably around his neck. “But not right now…” He looks at the others and wonders if he’ll ever admit to them just what they’ve gotten involved in. “I think today we should just figure out how bad it is in here. If you’re feeling frisky, feel free to take a box and start sorting them into themes.”

“Like what?” Martin asks, and he wonders if the ginger has felt the clawing of an entity before.

“Spiders, faceless people, random bouts of rage, dead bodies not staying dead, being watched-”

“Some people are into voyeurism, boss,” Tim interjects, a mischievous smile curling at his lips and lighting his eyes.

"Whatever, Tim,” Jon groans. “That’s what I mean by themes… if you’re not sure there’s no harm in asking.” When Martin nods, he turns to the last dregs of his coffee and downs it. “I'm going to figure out what Gertrude left in the office…"

* * *

**“The Aurora”**

**_D’Ville is online._ **

**D’Ville:** day 1 and eyeris already broke shit lol

**_Keeper of the Admiral is online._ **

**Keeper of the Admiral:** well it is your cat

**Keeper of the Admiral:** also…

**Keeper of the Admiral:** i can’t believe you threw up in Michael again

**D’Ville:** I Do Not Deserve This

**_Ashes is online._ **

**Ashes:** yes you do

**D’Ville:** ugh…

**_D’Ville is offline._ **

* * *

The head archivist’s office is strangely dark even with the lights turned on, and Jon’s glad that he can See. He’s glad that he can see the cobwebs in the topmost corners, empty of their creators and of song, but that doesn’t mean that they’re all mundane in nature… He can see the barest edge of a spiral scored into the wallpaper, and he Knows that Michael had snuck in last night. He Knows that Michael could use that spiral to shield Jon from prying eyes if need be, and he smiles at his friend’s thoughtfulness.

However, despite these additions, the office is dreadfully boring, and Jon contemplates asking Rosie for a financial compensation form. He’s going to change it regardless of Elias’s response, but using the institute’s money would make it more gratifying. And the first thing that’s going to go is Gertrude Robinson’s remaining possessions; perhaps Michael would like to have a bonfire later.

With that in mind, he starts rifling through the desk drawers and building two piles: useless garbage/Gertrude’s stuff that Jon doesn’t want and stuff Jon wants. The first pile fills up rather quickly: a sickly, sweet perfume that’s probably expired, photos of people Jon doesn’t know (other than Michael, but he Knows that those reminders are not welcome), a list of known avatars and their patrons (that Jon quickly memorizes and plans on incinerating at the first available moment), a pair of reading glasses… The other is mostly filled with new pens, blank paper, fire-starting equipment, and strange, vaguely mundane objects like purple, velvet ribbon the same shade as Eyeris’s collar and a large, glass eye.

Eventually, he hears a knock against the door frame and looks over to find Martin standing there with a nervous expression and a wreath of cobwebs in his hair; they’re mundane as well. "I'm making tea. Would you like some?"

Jon smiles softly. "That would be perfect thank you. I'm not sure what's in the kitchen, but I'm not terribly picky."

"That's fair," Martin replies. "How do you normally take it?"

Jon blinks. "Well anything fruity, a spoon of sugar. Caylons typically, a spoon of sugar and a splash of cream."

Martin seems surprised at his instructions, but he takes it in stride. "A tea snob and a cute cat. I think you'll make a great boss." Before Jon can comprehend what that actually means, Martin disappears from the doorway, leaving Jon to look through the last drawers in Gertrude's desk.

In the bottom-most drawer, he finds an old black book with white spider webs and trailing lines of text. There’s a small spider in the bottom, half embossed and half carved with a red splash somewhat resembling a top hat. He knows before he touches the cover what the picture book contains, but he also Knows that it is not the same book that he once read…  _ A Guest for Mr. Spider. _


	4. A Visit With Mr. Spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm soft for soft monsters.
> 
> Tim: KayaTim  
> Sasha: SwishSash  
> Martin; Blackerwood  
> Mr. Spider: Mr. Spyder @mr.spyder  
> Jon: @MechaEyeris

_ Tuesday, 15:27 _

**_Knock knock_ **

The wheels on his chair squeal as Jon pushes himself away from the messy stack of bitter, useless statements. He Knows… in that way that he sometimes does that none of these are truthful, but he cannot bring himself to destroy the written word of an imaginative mind.

Normally, he’d at least appreciate the creativity of their tales and stash them in his back pocket for future Mechs inspiration, but he’s been too distracted to care about these trivial stories...

He’s been distracted since he discovered the Leitner in the desk, but not for the reason why it was put there. He knows why this book would be best kept with the Archive, or more specifically an Archivist. He doesn’t know who would have put this there… Jon knows it isn’t the copy he has; it isn’t even the same cover art; but he knows it's the same story. He knows the price it demands should the unwary read it.

**_Who is it, Mr. Spider?_ **

Who could have known that Jon had read the same story? Surely, it couldn’t have been one of his friends… All who know of it and understand what it means knows…

**_It’s Mr. Bluebottle, and he’s brought you a cake._ **

They know that Jon still has the copy his grandmother brought him.

They know that Jon spoke to the spider that first day.

But they don’t know how Jon smiled when Mr. Spider offered him a slice of orange cream cake as he bound the bully in ribbons of webbing, just enough to incapacitate but not enough to spare the teen knowledge of his incoming fate.

**_Mr. Spider doesn’t like it._ **

They know that Jon has brought Mr. Spider many delicacies over the years that he’s been a welcome guest… always a guest… always a friend and never a meal.

So who else would have left him a copy of his childhood book?

**_Knock knock_ **

Jon grabs his jacket from the chair and slips it on. The spider web on his pocket glows softly in the dying light of his computer screen, and he swears he can feel the tender warmth of a hand against his chest. He needs to go… He needs to ask… He needs to Know.

“Jon?”

**_Who is it, Mr. Spider?_ **

He turns slightly to see Martin’s concerned face peering up from his own stack of statements, and Jon Knows that the others have been concerned since they saw him leave the office yesterday, face ashen and mind racing. He tried to reassure them that he just needed to leave the office for a minute and threw himself into exploring the rest of the archives, but he’s not a great liar.

“I’m heading out early.” He offers Martin a soft smile that feels too full of teeth and barely reaches his eyes. “I promised a friend that I’d meet him for dinner, and I don’t want to be late… it’s a long trek there.”

“Michael~?” Tim questions and doesn’t bat at an eye at the glare he receives.

“No. An old friend I call Spy.”

**_It’s Mrs. Fruit, and she’s brought you some flowers._ **

Jon’s glad he found a bunch of corruption worms in neutral territory when he went to Georgie’s on Saturday. He’s not particularly fond of that power, and so he feels no shame at dragging stranded members of the flesh hive into the Web’s domain. He can hear them singing, a morouse lullaby that wills him to set them free from their prison, but he’d rather choke on his own hair than show up empty handed to dinner.

**_Mr. Spider doesn’t eat flowers._ **

Eyeris curls up tighter around his neck, a reverberating purr meant to ward off any lingering trepidation… But Jon isn’t afraid. He hasn’t been afraid of the Web in a long time.

**_Knock knock_ **

He can feel Elias’s gaze slide off of him when his normal platform comes up, and he wonders if he should let the man know that he is not worth watching… not worth the possibility of letting oneself be Known.

**_Who is it, Mr. Spider?_ **

Jon emerges from the underground with the swell of many others, and a part of him is tempted to use the first door he finds… But there is safety in the silent, unknowing streets.

**_It’s Mr. Horse, and he’s brought you his son._ **

Children pass by him on scooters and bikes, their gentle laughter creating a discordant note against the singing worms, and Jon briefly wonders how many will run into a power… He wonders when he’ll see them scrabbling into the institute with fearful eyes.

**_Mr. Spider wants more._ **

This street is strangely empty for an early evening, and Jon Knows that it is this one that will take him to his friend. Most lights are off, but he isn’t sure if the houses are really empty. He Knows that one house on the right is haunted by a manifestation of the End, a listless Death that rarely leaves unless it’s to collect another soul; she’s petrified of what her fear has brought her.

Jon supposes that he understands...

**_“Mr. Spider wants another guest for dinner… It is polite to knock,”_** he whispers, and at last he finds himself before an apartment building with three doors: one new and red, one scratched and yellow, and one weathered and blue. A tiny spider with dancing legs spins a wondrous little web in the corner of the bluebell painted door, inviting Jon in with its careful movements, and he Knows that this is the right door today. No one seems to be home at the physical place on the other side, but Jon knows better.

_ It matters not on which door you knock. Mr. Spider will know that you are knocking for him. _

He knocks once, just a solitary tap against the right side and waits a breath before knocking twice in rapid succession and once again a few moments later. The door swings open from the exact opposite side it should, the hinges becoming the latch and the knob a mere decoration.

He steps across with no trepidation in his soul and smiles into the gloom. “Mr. Spider,” he calls and swaps the storybook for a glass jar with four, pale, wriggling worms inside. “I brought something for dinner.”

A kerosene lantern emerges from the darkness, the hand holding it blacker than ink and covered in hair-like spines. The lantern is set on the low dining room table, allowing Jon to just make out the carved corpse of a man lying strewn across the stained wood. Another lantern is lit, this one brighter than the last, and Jon can finally see the eyes staring back at him without the need for Sight.

Mr. Spider stands tall on his backmost legs, his beady, black eyes glittering with soft glee and smothering affection. He opens his arms so wide that they swallow the room, but this gesture is not aggressive; it’s an open invitation for affection. Jon deposits the worms on the table and sinks into this offered hug. As he burrows closer, a soft keening sound breaks past his lips, and quiet contentment creeps up his spine.

“How are you?” Mr. Spider asks; his voice comes in at an inhumanly low register that reminds Jon of rolling thunder. “I heard you got promoted to head archivist.”

Jon makes a small, annoyed grunt and nuzzles his face deeper into the spider’s spiny fur; it’s not especially comfortable, but it’s familiar. “Yeah… Today was my second day.”

“You don’t sound so enthused… did something happen?”

With a quick nod, Jon pulls back and sits at his normal seat, a black and green painted, high-backed bench with scratched in eyes all over. Eyeris curls up beside him, only offering its charge two of its many eyes while Jon digs in his messenger bag for the two copies of  _ A Guest for Mr. Spider.  _ “You know I’ve kept my copy of your book all this time, right?”

“Of course.” Mr. Spider sits across from them and places a cup of early gray across from his guest, its cream tinged with a splash of blood to soothe the savage animal. “It makes it easier for you to find me.” When Jon holds out the forign copy, he takes it gently, and his eyes widen with confusion and shock. “This isn’t yours…”

“I know.” Jon holds up his well-worn, well-loved copy. “Someone left  _ that- _ ” He points at the other book. “-in Gertrude Robinson’s desk… and I want to know who.”

“I can ask around,” the spider affirms but seems lost in thought nonetheless. “But if I had to venture a guess… Magnus.”

Eyeris’s head perks up, and the bench glows brighter with the opening of more ethereal eyes. A low growling sound permeates the air, and a voice older than this place and a toxic mixture between static and silk threads through the others’ minds. ‘ _ He wouldn’t dare.’ _

The growling cuts out abruptly when Jon picks the Beholding’s instance up and cradles it against his chest. “He doesn’t Know, remember? You’ve been keeping me a secret for so long… And it could be someone else.”

_ ‘Regardless…  _ **_You’re mine.’_ **

Jon looks up at Mr. Spider’s smug face before turning back to Eyeris and slow blinking. “Always…”

* * *

**“Assistant Support Server”**

_Tuesday, 19:16_

**_KayaTim added SwishSash and Blackerwood to the chat._ **

**KayaTim:** official assistant gc!

**SwishSash:** A.S.S. rly?

**KayaTim:** i thot it was clever

**Blackerwood:** it is Tim

**KayaTim:** tahnk you martini

**KayaTim:** thank*

**SwishSash:** is there a reason why you made this chat?

**KayaTim:** we need a chat without jon

**KayaTim:** spec with him acting weird rn

**SwishSash:** im sure he’s fine

**KayaTim:** so… u havent seen his new tweet huh?

**SwishSash:** wht tweet?

**KayaTim:**

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

fun fact: you can substitute 43g of blood for one egg white

less fun fact: sometimes your friends are assholes

_ replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ @mr.spyder _

__ I feel called out. Am I being called out?

_ replying to @mr.spyder _

_ @MechaEyeris _

__ you should. 

_ Replying to @Mecha Eyeris _

_ @mr.spyder _

__ You ate three after I told you what was in them.

_ replying to @mr.spyder _

_ @MechaEyeris _

__ i do not deserve this

**Blackerwood:** i didn’t know Jon has twitter

**KayaTim:** focus on the bigger picture!

**KayaTim:** but yes.

**KayaTim:** you should follow him too

**KayaTim:** most of it is cat pictures and bitchign abuot his other friends and work

**SwishSash:** did you have a stork?

**SwishSash:** stroke*

**KayaTim:** nah. cant fukcin spell eatin rice

**Blackerwood:** Jon did say he was meeting a friend after work

**Blackerwood:** maybe he was a bit stressed about that.

**SwishSash:** maybe he forgot until yesterday??

**KayaTim:** idk… im just worried about him

**SwishSash:** when are you not

**KayaTim:** when he sleeps at work and i can see him the entier time

**SwishSash:** that’s fair

* * *

[My interpretation of Eyeris](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCb4JcIBVfD/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)


	5. Rosie isn’t paid enough for their shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitchard announces a new dress code policy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: The Unflirtable, RosieStan, @MechaEyeris  
> Martin: Blackerwood  
> Sasha: Collective Braincell  
> Tim: Asking for a Felony  
> Michael: Michael Scissorhands @spiraling

**“Eyeris is the Best Kitty”**

_ Thursday, 2:12 _

**_The Unflirtable is online._ **

**_The Unflirtable has changed their name to RosieStan._ **

**_RosieStan has changed the chat name to Bitchard is being a double bitch._ **

_ 2:37 _

**_Blackerwood is online._ **

**Blackerwood:** jon what the hell are you doing up???

**RosieStan:** what are you doing up?

**Blackerwood:** someone was changing things in the chat

**Blackerwood:** now answer my question.

**_Asking for a Felony and Collective Braincell are online._ **

**Collective Braincell:** what the fuck Jon???

**Asking for a Felony:** but bomb nickname

**Asking for a Felony:** rosies great

**RosieStan:** yea

**RosieStan:** i forgot to get groceries and now i dont want to go to bed

**RosieStan:** eyeris has been staring at me for the last hour

**RosieStan:** and i was going to go to bed until i checked my email

**RosieStan:**

**To: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**From: r-brankin@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject:** heads up

Edward in archive storage made another hr complaint about you not wearing shoes. Elias is sending out a revised dress code tomorrow.

-Rosie

**Asking for a Felony:** oof

**Collective Braincell:** f

**Blackerwood:** F

**RosieStan:** i’m going to break as many rules as i can

**RosieStan:** again

**Blackerwood:** what do you mean again?

**RosieStan:** two dress codes ago, men couldn’t wear skirts or dresses

**RosieStan:** so i wore nothing but them for two solid weeks

**Asking for a Felony:** bitchard caved first

**Blackerwood:** oh that’s shitty

**RosieStan:** yup.

**RosieStan:** let me know if ya’ll want to join the revolution tomorrow

**_RosieStan is offline._ **

**Collective Braincell:** nothing is getting done tomorrow

**Asking for a Felony:** ill bring popcorn

**_Collective Braincell, Asking for a Felony and Blackerwood are offline._ **

* * *

_ Thursday, 9:34 _

**To: mi-employees**

**From: e-bouchard@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: Updated Official Dress Code**

**Official Dress Code for the Magnus Institute of London**

**Shirts:**

All employees are required to wear shirts with at least three fingers width straps at all times within the facility. Professional dress is at the discretion of individual departments.

**Pants and Skirts:**

All leg coverings are required to reach just above the knees all times within the facility. Professional dress is at the discretion of individual departments.

**Dresses:**

Dresses must meet the standards of skirts and shirts at all times within the facility. Professional dress is at the discretion of individual departments.

**Socks:**

Socks must be free of holes and profane language/imagery. Professional dress is at the discretion of individual departments.

**Shoes:**

All employees are required to wear appropriate footwear at all times and all places within the building*.

***This includes one Jonathan Sims.**

Individuals currently residing in the guest corridors are permitted to disregard this code while in a guest room.

No department can refuse individual clothing choices on the basis of sexual, romantic or gender orientation.

**To: mi-employees**

**From: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

no

**To: mi-employees**

**From: e-bouchard@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

Jonathan Sims,

You will adhere to the dress code as specified in the updated manual. This is both a health and safety issue.

Elias Bouchard

**To: mi-employees**

**From: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

i think the stick up your ass is against health and safety

**To: mi-employees**

**From: e-bouchard@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

Jonathan Sims,

You are a goddamned child.

Elias Bouchard

**To: mi-employees**

**From: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

compared to you old man

**To: mi-employees**

**From:r-brankin@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

Elias,

You do realize you’re hitting reply all, right?

-Rosie

**To: mi-employees**

**From: e-bouchard@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

I did not. Thank you, Rosemary.

Jonathan, I would like to speak to you in my office immediately.

**To: mi-employees**

**From: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

you’re just upset rosie likes me better

**To: mi-employees**

**From:r-brankin@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

Jonathan, would you be a dear and grab a ream of paper for me on your way up?

-Rosie

**To: mi-employees**

**From: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: re: re: Updated Official Dress Code**

anything for you. you’re the glue that keeps this place running

* * *

_ 10:45 _

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

__ got called out for not wearing shoes. now theres a new dress code...

edward from research youre a fucking snitch

_ replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ @spiraling _

__ Don’t You Own Sock Shoes?

_ replying to @spiraling _

_ @MechaEyeris _

__ oh youre right. im wearing them tomorrow bitches

love you!!!

_ replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ @spiraling _

__ Love You Too, Triskele.

* * *

**“Bitchard is being a double bitch.”**

**_Blackerwood, Collective Braincell and Asking for a Felony are online._ **

**Blackerwood:** u okay  **@RosieStan** ?

**_RosieStan is online._ **

**RosieStan:** yea. coming down now

**RosieStan:** had to fill in rosie on my master plan

**Asking for a Felony:** ???

**_RosieStan changed their name to SockShoes._ **

**Asking for a Felony:** bitchard’s going to have a heart attack

**SockShoes:** hopefully


	6. Something's Up With Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: SockShoes  
> Martin: Blackerwood  
> Sasha: Keeper of the Stacks, SwishSash  
> Tim: Asking for a Felony, KayaTim, i think im dead
> 
> tw for mentions of dicks... specifically Elias's

**“Assistant Support Server”**

_ Friday, July 31st, 11:56 _

**_Blackerwood is online._ **

**Blackerwood:** something’s off about jon

**_SwishSash and KayaTim are online._ **

**KayaTim:** just realizing that?

**Blackerwood:** jon just brought out a stack of tapes

**KayaTim:** so hes messy

**SwishSash:** he brought out four at lunch yesterday and six at quitting time

**KayaTim:** okay???

**SwishSash:** they were full

**Blackerwood:** i can barely stand after doing two

**KayaTim:** huh?

**SwishSash:** all of yours went onto the laptop huh?

**KayaTim:** yea

**SwishSash:** I’ll bring you a weird one

_ 12:20 _

**KayaTim:** i think im goimg to diie

**SwishSash:** now you know why were worried

**Blackerwood:** hes barely tired

**KayaTim:** martin you yell at him

* * *

**“Jon’s heckin feral”**

_ 12:27 _

**Blackerwood:** jonathan sims

**Blackerwood:** you're being forbidden from any more statements today

_ 2 people liked this comment. _

**SockShoes:** ???

**SockShoes:** also my door is currently open

**SockShoes:** you can come in

**Keeper of the Stacks:** too far

**SockShoes:** ????

**SockShoes:** its like 20 feet???

**_Asking for a Felony changed their name to i think im dead._ **

**i think im dead:** too far

**i think im dead:** u read too many spooky stattmentss

**SockShoes:** i am still confused

**Blackerwood:** tim had his first weird statement

**Keeper of the Stacks:** one that doesnt record on the computer

**SockShoes:** that doesnt explain why im forbidden from statements

**Blackerwood:** youve gone through like six already today

**SockShoes:** so??

**Keeper of the Stacks:** u need to take a break

**SockShoes:** i am.

**SockShoes:** im eating lunch rn

**Blackerwood:** come out of your office

**SockShoes:** okay??

* * *

Bundled up in a fleece tie blanket covered in green eyes, Jon shuffles out of his office with his chair in front of him. Eyeris looks smug in the middle of the chair until Jon sits it close to Martin, and the cat jumps up on the ginger’s desk, purring all the while. When he’s certain that he likes where he’ll be sitting, Jon curls up in his desk chair and drops the blanket slightly, revealing a box of leftover thai.

“What’s up?” he asks, his gaze flickering over Tim who’s sprawled back in his chair, half-asleep. “Y’all look exhausted.”

“We are,” Sasha grouses. “So you’re being pulled off statements for the rest of the day.”

Jon quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything; he Knows why they’re worried about him, and he's sure that nothing shy of admitting his inhuman existence would change that perception.

“Do you wanna come to dinner with us?” Martin suddenly asks, bringing him back into the present moment.

Jon blinks at him before a slow, tired smile appears on his face. “Depends on where we’d be going… I don’t go to places that don’t let me bring Eyeris.”

“Bar,” Tim mutters, “that one that we used to go to before it temporarily closed.” He picks up his coffee with a shaky hand. “‘S still pet friendly.”

The moment 17:30 hits, Tim’s out of the chair he’d been practically glued to since noon, and much to the others’ amusement, he practically sprints for the archive door, the allure of booze too strong to make him even wait for the others. Sasha follows him a few moments later with her bag slung over her shoulder and a knowing smile gracing her lips. Martin waits by Jon’s door while the shorter man exchanges his pair of sock shoes for real socks and a worn pair of black converse.

When the two of them emerge into the lobby, they see Tim and Sasha by the entrance, and with a wave at Rosie who’s on her way up to Elias’s office, the four of them set out for their old stomping ground,  _ Landing’s Edge. _

True to Tim’s word, no one said anything about Eyeris accompanying them, so they set in for a night of revelry. Regardless, none of the assistants were ready for the conversation Tim started and Jon twisted.

Tim takes a large swig of his beer and affixes Martin with a curious stare. “You know, we don’t know that much about you, Marto.”

Martin hums noncommittally. “I don’t know that much about you guys either.”

After a moment of contemplation, a sinister, mischievous grin lights up both Sasha and Tim’s face. “How about a modified game of truth or dare?” the former offers. “A truth or truth?”

Tim leans over to kiss her cheek. “You read my mind, Sash.”

Jon snorts dismissively and mutters, “whatever,” leaving Martin as the only hold out.

“What do you say, Marto?”

With a sigh, he nods. “Only if we can decline anything we aren’t comfortable with.”

“Of course…” Tim puts his hand over his heart. “I’m a gentleman.”

“Right…” Jon drawls. “In that case, you’re first, Mr. Gentleman.”

“Sasha dear, fuck, marry, kill at his table.”

She gives him the most hateful of stares. “Well, kill you. Fuck Jon and marry Martin.” Jon makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, leading her to reach across the table and pat his arm. “I know. I’d marry you if Martin wasn’t so good with tea.” She pats Martin’s arm too. “So Martin, why is the background on your phone a cow?”

“Because all cows are good cows…” He smiles with the memory of that particular cow who he got to pet on a day trip the year previous. “Honestly, cows and arson are my only source of happiness.”

Jon and Tim choke on their food, and Eyeris looks up from where it’d been staring at a child across the room. “What?” the former inquires.

“I like fire,” Martin responds honestly. “So, why do you hate Elias so much, Jon?”

“That’s a dumb question. He’s a bag of assholes… and he once said to me that the most interesting thing about me is that I’m an orphan.”

“That’s so shitty,” Martin grumbles, his nose wrinkling up. “No wonder you try to fuck his life up.”

There’s another noncommittal hum. “Sash, tell Martin about the time we found Elias’s place.”

“Oh no…” Sasha takes a gulp of rum and coke. “First of all, it was Jon’s fault…” She looks down at her hand and a small starburst scar on it. “We were going to tp it, but we had to figure out where it was first. So we followed him home one day and went to go peek inside… I was looking into his living room while Jon was smoking a cigarette… and I saw something horrifying and bumped into Jon, making him drop his cigarette into the bush nearby… I will never forget that day… Not just because we accidentally set fire to a bush, but because I saw Elias’s dick.”

Martin coughs loudly as strawberry daiquiri comes out his nose, and he looks at both Jon and Sasha with horrified eyes. “No…”

Jon smirks. “It’s so much funnier knowing that I didn’t see a damn thing.”

She scowls at him and grouses, “now you tell Martin about showing up to work shit-faced and vomiting on Elias’s desk.”

“Why would I? You just did.”

She groans. “Whatever… Tim, tell Martin something weird about you.”

“I’ve had sex with most of research and archive storage.” Tim grins haughty at that answer and turns his gaze to Jon’s annoyed expression. “I like that question though. Everyone should answer it.”

Martin goes first with a soft smile. “I like peppermint tea with strawberry jam.”

Sasha shakes her head with a grimace and says, “I lost my virginity to a clown.”

Three expectant pairs of eyes turn to Jon, and he, in turn, looks at Eyeris as if to ask, “what should I say?” After a moment of quiet contemplation, he asks, “did I ever tell you guys that I was technically born dead?”

The wide eyes tell him that he hadn’t, but it isn’t until Martin stutters out a squeaky ‘what??’ that he continues.

“I was basically stillborn. They managed to get my heart beating, but I was in a coma for a week.” He opens his hand to Eyeris’s snout and accepts its purr gratefully. “When I woke up, it was like I never… I guess died. But that’s also why my parents named me Jon… It’s supposed to mean God is gracious… but that’s not exactly important.” A soft, pained but wistful smile curls his lips. “My father Taru was supposedly pretty religious, but my mother and grandmother raised me agnostic… so whatever.”

“Of all weird things,” Martin admits, “I was not expecting that…”

Jon shrugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im kind of sad we don't know Jon's parents and grandmother's names so I'm improvising.
> 
> Jon's dad is Taru, his mother is Mary Ellen and his grandmother is Elise.


	7. Spiraling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha meets Michael... and Jon decides that they need to know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: Dead Archivist Walking  
> Tim: i think im dead  
> Martin: cows and arson are my only source of happiness  
> Sasha: Keeper of the Stacks

**“Starbucks??”**

_ Tuesday, August 18, 8:12 _

**_Keeper of the Stacks is online._ **

**Keeper of the Stacks:** im running early

**Keeper of the Stacks:** what’cha want at starbucks??

**_cows and arson are my only source of happiness is online._ **

**cows and arson are my only source of happiness:** venti chai latte pls

**_i think im dead is online._ **

**i think im dead:** surprise me

**_Dead Archivist Walking is online._ **

**Dead Archivist Walking:** venti white chocolate mocha 3 extra espresso shots

**Dead Archivist Walking:** and whipped cream for the hellion

**Dead Archivist Walking:** pls

**cows and arson are my only source of happiness:** youre going to give yourself a heart attack

**Dead Archivist Walking:** oh no

**Dead Archivist Walking:** im so worried

_ 9:10 _

**i think im dead:** sasha?

**Dead Archivist Walking:** where are you??

**cows and arson are my only source of happiness:** are you okay  **@Keeper of the Stacks**

_ 9:17 _

**Keeper of the Stacks:** Jon… we need to have a staff meeting as soon as I get in

**Dead Archivist Walking:** ???

**Keeper of the Stacks:** i just ran into a man with knife-fingers

**Dead Archivist Walking:** youve got to be kidding me

* * *

“Michael”

_ 9:19 _

what did you do

Michael.

youre in so much trouble

* * *

Everyone's gathered around Martin's desk when Sasha comes stomping through the door, her hair a mess and her arms full of lukewarm drinks. She slams the drink carrier down on the desk, her gaze boring into Jon's skin. "Who is he?" she growls, but the sharpness of her voice doesn't make Jon raise his head.

"I…" Jon hauls Eyeris into his arms and buries his face into inky fur. "Please, tell me he didn't hurt you."

Sasha's eyes soften a bit. "No… he just asked me if I trusted the institute."

Jon looks up. "Do you?"

"No… but I trust you." Before Jon can say anything else, she barrels onwards. "He wanted me to tell you that the corruption is moving, and the hive is searching for something… He also wanted me to tell you that he broke his phone…"

Jon sighs. "Of course he did." He lets Eyeris jump down, and his hand comes to rest over the spiral on his shoulder. He Knew this day was coming, but that doesn't make it easier.

"Jon," she tries again, "who is he?"

With a finger held up to request a moment, Jon pulls his phone out and flips to a sweet picture of him and Michael on a ferris wheel. One of Michael's hands is grotesque, but the other, the one clasped in Jon's is just as normal as his human-ish face would suggest. Just out of frame, Nikki and Brian are pretend making-out while staring point-blank at Basira and Daisy. That was before they started officially dating, and all the Mechs loved to make fun of them. He likes that picture… He loved that night.

"His name is Michael…" Before Martin can ask the question on all three assistants' minds, Jon continues, "yes, that Michael…" There's a slight prickle at the back of his mind, but it disappears soon enough with Eyeris's intervention. "I'll explain everything," he whispers, "just not right now… Elias is watching."

With that, he grabs his coffee and the cup of cream and darts into his office, shutting the door for the first time. He's scared… He needs to tell them, but how? And where?

_ 'Right shelf. There's a key under the left leg.' _

'I'm aware,' Jon thinks back. 'You told me to leave it be.'

Eyeris chirps.  _ 'Now you need it… wait for two minutes and 15 seconds. I will signal you when Rosie gets Magnus's attention.' _

'What's the key for?'

_ 'Do you remember the panopticon and Millbank prison?' _

'Yes.'

Green eyes glow in the dim lighting.  _ 'Now!'  _ Jon lunges for the shelf, his fingers closing around the key, and scrambles back to his seat in just over a minute.  _ 'Excellent… he doesn't know we have it.' _

'What does it have to do with Millbank?' Another chirp, and Jon finds himself passing over the key to Eyeris's maw. He's not worried about the key going permanently missing; he's sure it will end up on his end table once they get home. A slick slide of information presses into his mind, ripping a rough-hewn gasp from his lips. 'Tunnels?'

_ 'Magnus can't see us under there… I can barely see there when I'm not in this building… perhaps I could show you the way to Magnus's body… One day he might outgrow his usefulness.' _

'And I will relish his death. But until then…' Jon rubs his fingers around the Beholding's ears. 'We need to be careful. Are you sure the tunnels will work?'

_ 'Positive. Magnus is only looking in because Sasha seemed so frantic. If we continue on with business as usual, he will turn a blind eye again… especially with the manipulation I'm working on.' _

'When?' Jon flinches slightly at the narrowed pupils suddenly trained on him, but they soften quickly, allowing him to relax under his patrons attention. 'Sorry.'

_ 'You have no reason to be. I'm not mad at you… I love you.' _

Jon smiles. 'Love you too.'

_ 'I Know… However, to answer your question. 12:00 at the earliest. Perhaps 12:30? This will be a long conversation…' _

'Yea… it definitely will.'

* * *

**"Starbucks??"**

_ 13:15 _

**Dead Archivist Walking: @Keeper of the Stacks @i think im dead @cows and arson are my only source happiness**

**cows and arson are my only source of happiness:** you ready to talk now?

**Dead Archivist Walking:** Its not safe yet.

**Dead Archivist Walking:** But I've got a plan

**Dead Archivist Walking: [photo id: a rough schematic of the archive showing the entrance to the tunnels]**

**Dead Archivist Walking:** Tomorrow, we'll meet in these tunnels at 12:30 sharp. Breathe a word of it to no one, not even each other until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, jon's going to actually explain to them. Get ready for a looong one.


	8. The Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Beholding and his Archive to spill their secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all chat names are pretty obvious this time

_Wednesday, August 19, 12:25_

Jon carefully creeps out of his office, ignoring the stares of his assistants as he heads straight for the tunnels. Eyeris is wrapped tightly around his neck, key held in its teeth. Jon's messenger bag is chock full of supplies, from torches to snacks to a box of matches should an unwary bug cross his path. He can hear the others get up to follow him, but he pays them no mind.

At the trapdoor, he unlocks the padlock and hefts it open with a thick cloud of dust. _'We should take the lock with us,'_ Eyeris hisses and swallows the key again.

Jon nods and stuffs it into his bag before removing the four torches and passing three backwards. "I hope you're not afraid of the dark," he jokes, but no lighthearted laughter comes… He supposes that it's not the time.

After Eyeris jumps in, Jon follows, flicking on his torch as he descends into the disused tunnel. They move further in without responding to curious calls until they Know that their voices will not carry out of the blindspot.

"I owe you quite a long explanation." Jon sits with his back against the wall and his legs crossed to leave a space for Eyeris to lay. He half-expects the others to remain standing, but to his surprise, they sit across from him with their own backs to the tunnel wall.

"Yeah, you do," Tim growls, but the weight is off; he's not angry… not yet.

"Where are we?" Martin asks, his own curiosity outweighing the mystery of Jon's monster friend.

"Tunnels leading to the remains of Millbank Prison."

Tim blinks rapidly, and a look of petty disgust erupts on his face. "Ugh… Smirke sucks."

"We know," Sasha placates. "But that doesn't explain why we're down here."

Jon nods sharply. "You'll have to humor me if you want this explanation to be worthwhile, okay?" They nod. "You know how some statements don't record on the laptop?" More nods. "Those are real."

"Huh…"

Jon sighs loudly. "Supernatural encounters largely have to do with at least one of fourteen fear entities. Many are exactly what they say on the tin… The Slaughter is fear of random acts of violence and the heartlessness of war. The Hunt is the fear of being prey. The Buried is claustrophobia and various types of suffocation or being buried alive. The Flesh comes from animals bred for consumption and human realization that we’re animated meat and bones. The Web is the fear of being trapped or controlled…” Jon’s fingers tangle in a small cobweb on the wall, and with a start, he checks to make sure he didn’t injure its creator; the web had been empty though. “Spiders are a pretty common manifestation, oddly enough… The End is death. The Vast is insignificance and meaninglessness, but more direct is the fear of heights, falling and large open spaces.”

He grimaces before continuing on, his mouth tasting of rot. “The Corruption is disease, filth and unhealthy love... The Desolation is pain, loss, burning and senseless destruction. The Stranger is the unknown, uncanny and unfamiliar... The Spiral is madness and deception. The Dark is pretty self evident; so is the Lonely.”

Jon glances down to see a smattering of eyes staring up at him from Eyeris’s back, not glowing or drawing attention to themselves, but he Knows how his patron loves to watch. “And then there’s the Eye… the Ceaseless Watcher… It Knows You... the Beholding is the fear of being watched and Known... and the fear of one's own curiosity."

“Sometimes… sometimes those fears find people that they can call theirs… The fears are patron gods to those that accept their presence… And sometimes…” Jon relinquishes his hold over that little thread of human countenance and feels his patron’s love pour out through his skin. “Sometimes patrons choose their most precious followers… their avatars and give them power...” Through half-lidded contentment, he can see the green glow pouring out from Eyeris’s many, suddenly open eyes, and an inhuman, rolling purr trembles in the air between them.

“Jon?” Martin’s voice pushes him out of that quiet revery, and he looks up to find the others staring at them with unconcealed shock and horror. “Are… are you okay?”

Jon nods sharply. “I’m the avatar of the Beholding…” There are tattooed eyes blooming on his skin in luminous green, and against his heart, he can feel the heat of the fear’s mark, a blooming flower with an intricately detailed eyeball inside. They whisper the things they see and hear and Know to him, sliding along his synapses with a cloying intoxication that they feed him like madness. He’s so swayed that he can barely hear his own voice admit, “but you know it as Eyeris.”

 _“Silly boy…”_ Eyeris presses its face to Jon’s chest, directly over his heart and lets loose that same roaring purr that they share. _“Such greed… Always searching, always curious… always ravenous…”_ It reaches into Jon’s mind and pushes him into wakefulness, promising that there’s plenty of time to Know and See. _“Your friends are worried, Archive… Don’t make them wait to see your eyes.”_

It takes a moment longer for Jon to come to, and he Knows that he started crying. There’s lightning bolts of ink trailing down his cheeks and staining his shirt with its ichor, and he’s grateful that only his physical eyes possess this strange ability. When the flood of information abates to a slow trickling stream, the extra eyes begin to close, leaving behind the two on the backs of his hands and the one at the base of his throat.

“Sorry,” he rasps, his gaze affixed on the ground, but it’s clear by the way that he keeps turning slightly to avoid his friends’ eyes that the apology was also meant for them.

But they don’t know what to say… What can they say??

_“Oh, my Archive… Never apologize for the way you are… I chose you for a reason, and I love you so… No one worth your tears would ever turn from you for something so inconsequential.”_

“Grandmother did,” he whispers morosely but accepts a handkerchief from Martin.

Sasha’s the first one up, but within a moment, she’s across the tunnel and pulling Jon into her embrace. “It’s okay,” she breathes and presses a kiss to his hair. “You’re still our Jon… and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I,” Martin adds, and he too moves to sit on the other side, cocooning Jon between the two of them. There’s still a tenseness in the two of them, but Jon Knows that it's fear for him, not of him.

Tim, however, remains across the way, his eyes hard and his mouth set in a grimace; he’s the one that asks the million dollar question, “when? When did you become an avatar?”

“I told you I was born dead… The only reason I was resuscitated was because I was wanted… I-”

 _“I wanted him… so much that I beseeched the End to give him back to me.”_ Eyeris nuzzles harder into Jon’s shirt. _“I’ve never wanted an avatar so much before… He is mine, and I am his-”_

 **_“And we will do whatever we must to protect each other, and those that are ours.”_ **Eyeris and Jon purr at one another, hypnotic smiles spreading across their faces and distorting the cat visage the former had carefully crafted.

_“Does that answer your question, Timothy Stoker?”_

Tim nods quickly, eyes wide, and his fear abating behind curiosity. There are questions circling around his mind, but it’s Martin that asks them first. “When you were out of it… what happened, Jon?”

Again, Jon lowers his gaze, but he speaks loud and clear. “I don’t have my eyes open very often, so when they are, I have to recenter myself against all of the information I get. It takes me a while, but I can coexist with them quite well when I leave them open…” He frowns deeply and sighs. “If I try to Know to much without them, I tend to pass out… and occasionally vomit.”

_“As my avatar, Jon is afforded many of my abilities. He Knows things that he shouldn’t, can speak and read languages that he never learned, can share information with others without their permission, heals inhumanly fast, and most importantly to me… he can compel others to tell him whatever he wants or force weaker individuals to complete a task… Well, there are other things, but those are the important things right now…”_

“Thank you for reminding me how weird I am.”

 _“Oh, Jonathan… You aren’t weird.”_ Eyeris reaches up with a paw to gather beading ichor. _“You’re amazing… and one day, when you’re ready, when you’re strong enough, no one will be able to deny your perfection.”_

* * *

**"masters of bad decisions"**

_15:12_

**_Jonathan is online._ **

**Jonathan:** i need to add another point to the bad decision board

**_Nikki is online._ **

**Nikki:**??

 **Nikki:** Aren't you at work??

 **Jonathan:** yea. it's michaels fault

**_Michael, Mr. Spider, Cane & Daisy are online._ **

**Michael:** …

 **Michael:** You Told Your Assistants About You And Eyeris, Didn't You?

 **Jonathan:** yes

 **Michael:** It's Because I Met Sasha, Isn't It?

 **Jonathan:** yes

 **Cane:** nice.

 **Nikki:** This could be a good thing!

 **Jonathan:** you stole the face of work tim's brother

 **Nikki:** This could be a bad thing!

 **Mr.Spider:** It'll be okay. I'll make you orange cream cake.

 **Daisy:** Basira and I think you're overreacting.

 **Jonathan:** thank you **@Mr.Spider**

 **Jonathan: @Daisy** , you two always think im overreacting

 **Daisy:** mental breakdowns are your speciality

 **Jonathan:** i have to be good at something

 **Michael:** You Are Good At Many Things!

 **Daisy:** kiss ass

 **Cane:** doubt that

 **Nikki:** press x to doubt

 **Nikki:** Wait. I take it back. That’s too mean.

 **Nikki:** You have a lovely voice!

 **Jonathan:** _thanks nikki_

 **Jonathan:** _im telling work tim now_

 **Nikki:** @Michael You might want to be ready to save Jon!!!

 **Michael:** I Am.

 **Jonathan:** where?

 **Michael:** In Your Office!!

 **Jonathan:** good grief

* * *

Jon looks up from his phone and back at the assistants climbing out of the hole. “Tim,” he calls out, and all three of them look at him. “Can I talk to you in private?”

Tim chuckles and begins moving back down into the tunnel. “Could’ve told me before I came up.”

“Yeah… probably should have.” They move a little bit inwards, just about 10 feet away from the trapdoor, and Jon bites at his lip before looking Tim in the eye. “I know about your brother.”

Tim’s expression is somewhere between shock and anger. “How?” Jon points to his right eye. “Right, stupid question.”

“No it isn’t… You’re not used to this kind of thing, so you are relying on your instincts about me as if I were a human… Or more human... “ Jon shakes his head. “Whatever, that’s not the point. I know about Danny… I know how he died… and I know who really killed him.”

Tim surges forward to grip Jon’s arms. “Who?!”

Jon lets loose an involuntary growl but doesn’t try to shake his friend off; instead, he stares into Tim’s eye. “Promise me you won’t go after her; she deserves to explain it to you if nothing else.”

“Jon-”

_“Promise me, Timothy Stoker.”_

Tim flinches but mutters a quick, “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Jon pulls out of his grip and grabs his phone. “I’m going to send you her phone number… Her name is Nikola Orsinov; she’s what became of Joseph Grimaldi after the Stranger got to him. She’s somewhere between an aspect and avatar. She has trouble suppressing the urge to grow the Stranger’s circus… But she’s doing a lot better now, and… well, she’s my friend.”

Without waiting for Tim’s response, Jon rushes out of the tunnel and straight into his office where Michael waits in his chair. There’s ichor in Jon’s eyes, but he doesn’t think about staining Michael’s shirt when he curls up in the Distortion’s lap; all he wants is for someone he Knows and loves and knows and loves him back to remind him that not everything has turned upside down.

Michael holds him close, his hands carefully human and soft against Jon’s back. “It’s okay, triskele… He’ll come around.”

“You think?”

“I know… they care about you… and that won’t change. I’m sure of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jon's one heckin strong guy at this point, but unlike cannon Jonathan, Jon's been an avatar for years at his point.


	9. Corpse Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets Oliver

_ Saturday, August 22, 5:12 _

True to Michael’s prediction, Tim only ignored Jon until Friday when he thanked Jon for the phone number. He said that his and Nikola’s conversation was enlightening but refused to go further on the details. It was tempting… to rip into his mind, or compel to speak, or try to Know, or ask Nikki… but Jon wants to be a good friend.

So when Tim asks for a little space, Jon refuses Martin's invitation to drinks with the others, knowing that they all could use some time to comprehend this shift in world view.

So when Jon wakes up early on Saturday, he doesn't know what to do with himself. From experience, he knows what Mechs are up for work already and who will break into his house to strangle him if he calls… Georgie's most likely hungover or sleeping. Michael's doing whatever Michael does when he doesn't answer his phone. Basira and Daisy had overnight shifts the past two days. It's to the point where he considers being terribly annoying in the avatar group chat when a sharp urge to just… Know punches the air out of his lungs.

Eyeris pads over to the table where Jon's sitting, green eyes glowing brightly in the dim light. There's a hunger in them; a hunger Jon can feel clawing itself loose in his stomach.

It's that hunger that drives them downstairs and out into the street, Jon having barely been able to get dressed before that tug of razor-sharp want pulls him out towards a nearby park. There’s a sickly sweet smell in the air, like the cloying scent of expensive perfume and the burgeoning rot of an old bouquet, but underneath that sweet stench, Jon can just taste the earthy thrum and icy shards that undercut it. 

_ ‘Jonathan…’ _

“I know,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t go looking for them… But I want…” Finally, he spies a thin tendril of corpse root rising above the trees, and he smiles softly before breaking out in a dead run towards the source.

_ ‘Jonathan! You don’t know who’s summoning them!’ _

‘Are you saying you can’t see over there?’

_ ‘No! I can’t see anything in the corpse roots! Whoever’s there has their eyes closed!’ _

'Well, then, the only way to find out is to go!'

Eyeris snarls but bounds after him, using their bind to appear on Jon's shoulder since its Archive won't wait.

* * *

The being in the corpse roots is not a death, of this Jon is certain, but even so, the End has claimed a sharp hold on their life. The tendrils are coiled around and under every part of their body, seeming to darken already dark skin and blend in curls of black hair. They are asleep, dead to the world around them as the corpse roots twist and spread from their cocoon. However, the moment Jon trails his fingers down the length of a tendril, their eyes fly open and alight with surprise.

"Hello!" Jon chirps. "My name's Jon, he, him."

"Oliver… and likewise."

"Cool! This is Eyeris, by the way."

Oliver blinks rapidly at the man before him, equal parts confused and in awe that someone was able to find him in the nest of corpse roots… but then he feels a icy wind from the core of Jon's being followed by a vicious buzz of static. His eyes are drawn to the cat walking down a tendril, its green eyes glowing with hunger and smug satisfaction.

_ "Ah… I heard that the End finally got the balls to create an avatar." _

Jon gasps and bounces slightly, a wide grin stretching across his face. "You're an avatar too! No wonder you feel so familiar!!"

Eyeris chuckles.  _ "You'll have to excuse him. I fear the End may have damaged him when they had a run-in." _

"A run-in… with Death?"

_ "More or less…" _

"It's a long story," Jon intercepts. "But forgive me… I'm more curious about you… Would you mind telling me  _ what happened to you, Oliver Banks? _ "

* * *

**"masters of bad decisions"**

_ 10:23 _

**_Nikki and Michael are online._ **

**Nikki: @Jonathan** Michael and I were thinking we could bring over pizza for supper if you're up for it.

**_Jonathan is online._ **

**Jonathan:** down

**Jonathan:** also i made a new friend

**_Cane is online._ **

**Cane:** oh?

**Jonathan:** im going to add him in the chat

**Jonathan:** hes the avatar of the end

**_Daisy_** **_is online._**

**Daisy:** the end has an avatar??? since when?

**Cane:** pretty recently

**_Jonathan added Oliver to the chat._ **

**Oliver:** uh… hi

**Nikki:** I'll add your name to the board.

**Oliver:** board???

**Nikki:** Bad decision board. Jon has most of the points… followed by Michael.

**Michael:** Hey!

**Cane:** you ate potato salad with hot sauce and strawberry jam yesterday

**Michael:** There Wasn't Anything Else In The Fridge.

**Cane:** IT WAS MY FRIDGE!!

**Michael:** I Opened It From My Hallways, Though.

**Cane:** YOURE THE BLOODY DISTRORTION. YOU CAN OPEN DOORS ANYWHERE. STAY OUT OF MY FRIDGE.

**Michael:** I Will! You Keep Better Things In The Pantry!

**Cane:** JON YOU BETTER GET HIN RIGHT NOW OR IM GOING TO FILL YOUR HOUSE WITH SPIDERS

**Jonathan:** but i like spiders

**Cane:** JONATHAN MOTHERFUCKING SIMS! GET YOUR FUKCING BOYFRIEND!

**Michael:** We Aren't Dating???

**Jonathan:** ???

**Cane:** CLOSE ENOUGH

**Jonathan: @Michael** i have cosmic brownies and black licorice in my cupboard

**Michael:** !!!!

**Michael:** I'm Coming!!

**_Michael has left the chat._ **

**Oliver:** wtf is going on

**Daisy:** dont worry no one else knows either

**Nikki:** You'll learn to roll with it.

**Jonathan:** hes out of your pantry  **@Cane**

**Cane:** ily

**Jonathan:** ilyt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the plot bunny bites you multiple times.
> 
> I should be putting up the first chapter of another TMA story "Little Eyes" by Friday. If you like Monster!Jon, you'll hopefully like that one too.


	10. The Mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgie brings a friend to jam night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two things:
> 
> Raum's a doctor.
> 
> Eyeris can use mirrors and mirrored surfaces to get around.

**"The Aurora"**

_ Friday, August 28, 14:22 _

**_Nastya is online._ **

**Nastya:** we still jammin tnt?

**_D'Ville, ToySoldier, Ashes, and Raum are online._ **

**Ashes:** yea

_ 4 people liked this _

**Raum:** ill probably be late

**Raum:** short staffed

**D'Ville:** how bad?

**Raum:** i hate my life bad

**_Drumbot, Gunpowder and Raphella are online._ **

**Drumbot:** sucks

**Raphella:** want me to swing by with coffee??

**Raum:** pls

**_Keeper of the Admiral is online._ **

**Keeper of the Admiral:** quick question

**Keeper of the Admiral:** can i bring melanie??

**Gunpowder:** that girl you like?

**Keeper of the Admiral:** yeah!

**D'Ville:** i don't care either way.

**D'Ville:** but there's only one way to settle this

**Gunpowder:** naked wresling

**D'Ville:** i swear to beholding…

**Gunpowder:** ily!!

**D'Ville:** ilyt

**D'Ville:** more importantly, all in favor of georgie bringing her girlfriend say aye

_ 9 people liked this comment _

**D'Ville:** close enough

**D'Ville: @The Keeper of the Admiral** shes allowed

**Keeper of the Admiral:** good

**D'Ville:** i feel threatened

**Keeper of the Admiral:** i didnt threaten you???

**D'Ville:** i could feel the vibes

**Raum:** theres a disturbance in his force

_ 6 people liked this comment _

**D'Ville:** ffs im going back to work

**D'Ville:** see yall tonight

**_D'Ville has left the chat._ **

**Raphella:** i still cant believe he uses yall unironically

_ 9 people liked this comment. _

* * *

_ 17:23 _

Unsurprisingly, Michael and Jon are the last to arrive aside from Marius. Surprisingly, Nikki isn’t making any effort to hide her inhuman qualities; still neither of them are sure that they can drop their guard yet.

That changes when Georgie turns and calls over, “Melanie is supernatural literate!”

“So??”

Nastya looks up from her viola and translates, “you can be knifey as long as you behave, Michael.”

“And you can be you, Jon,” Basira tacks on before burying her face back into Daisy’s stomach.

With that permission, Jon and Michael part and push further into the converted warehouse that Nastya calls home. As they approach, a tall woman with tight ringlets of black and red hair steps out from the group crowded around the kitchen table and trying to mess up tuning. Her piercing eyes take in every monstrous detail the trio offers: long, tapered fingers, luminous green eyes, a much too wide smile, and a cat that stares too hard and from too many eyes… But she smiles slightly and gives a halted wave.

"I'm Melanie King."

"Michael…"

"Jon Sims…" A loud meow. "And Eyeris the unholy terror that rains on everything it touches and steals my coffee if I look away for one goddamned second."

_ "Get more eyes then."  _ Melanie starts at Eyeris's voice, clearly she hadn't been expecting that.

Georgie, who's peeking around Brian like a mother who can't help but watch her son finally interact with another human being, quickly steps in upon realizing her oversight. "Sorry!" She presses into the space and takes Eyeris out of Jon's arms. "Eyeris doesn't usually talk much, so I kind of forgot to warn you about it."

"It's okay!" Melanie asserts, a swave sort of confidence pulling at her frame. "I should have expected more out of a cat with extra eyes."

"Yea, but it's evil, Melanie," Gunpowder asserts and then sticks his tongue out when Eyeris narrows its eyes at him. "Never forget that Eyeris is an evil monster that thinks about killing everyone in this room."

_ "Only if something happens to Jon." _

When Marius drags himself through the door, all thought of intensive practice vanishes in favor of getting him to sit down, relax and eat… Except no one ordered food. So with pizza being thirty minutes out, the group settles in for a bit of lighthearted banter and lackadaisical playing.

"Jon! Jon! Jon!"

"What?!"

Brian laughs and points to his eye. "Were you crying earlier?"

Jon rolls his eyes, making the dark line under them more obvious. "Yea. My pen was empty."

Melanie looks at him with surprise and amusement. “You that emotional, Jonathan?” Without skipping a beat, Jon stares at her with wide eyes. “You going to blink?”

“As soon as I start crying, yea.” A moment later, the tears well up in his eyes and begin spilling down the corners. “Tada! Does anyone else need a pen refilled?”

“What the fuck??”

* * *

There's something endearing about the way Jon's eyes sparkle whenever he talks about something that interests him; Michael wouldn't mind just looking into them for hours… but he's also out of licorice, and that's on the kitchen counter.

So without interrupting the unfolding discussion on Melanie's adventures as a ghost hunter, Michael slips into the kitchen and quickly grabs the rest of the bag before a black shape jumps up beside him, settling down neatly beside an empty glass.  _ "Michael."  _ The distortion turns to look the Beholding in one of its many, many eyes.  _ "Bring him home safely, please." _

"Course… You going to tell him you're leaving, or do you want me to?"

_ "I will…"  _ Jon pauses in the middle of his sentence, turns to meet Eyeris's gaze and then nods once quickly before turning back to his conversation.  _ "Take care of my avatar, or I'll ban you from the apartment."  _ It doesn't wait for a response, not that it was going to get one; it just simply stands and walks into the reflection of the glass.

Once Eyeris is well and truly gone, Michael wanders back into the den and drops back into his spot. Jon moves over slightly, cuddling up closer to his friend, and then steals the last red strand.

"Anyways, if you need access to the library or anything let me know. Our reputation might not be the greatest, but in the archives at least, we've got information on a lot of fucked up shit."

She laughs. "I might just take you up on that… I'm all set for the next excursion though." Jon motions for her to go on. “We're planning to go to this abandoned trainyard in a couple of weeks. Supposedly one of the cars is always covered in fresh blood at night… It has something to do with-"

Jon pitches forward, his breaths coming in rapid, ragged gasps. Michael and Nikki press up against him, whispering sweet words of endearment and calls to come back to the world where he belongs. Georgie drops to her knees before him while Marius darts off to grab the trash can and Nastya grabs a stack of napkins.

He's mumbling against Michael's chest, growing louder and somehow less coherent with each passing second. " _-he's waiting. They're dead… so many people… so much blood… it's never enough… never enough to quench the thirst… ravenous… slide the scalpel against soft meat… the bite of the blade brings symphony… marching in time to the heartbeats… their hearts are fresh and_ **_blood is all that it wants…"_**

He jolts upwards to look Melanie dead in the eyes and croaks, "don't go into that railcar."

And then, he passes out. 


	11. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a bit shorter. I really didn't have a lot I wanted to put in this one since I didn't want to leave a bunch of loose ends before the next one.

_Tuesday, September 15, 10:08_

Jon knows that Melanie didn't listen to him.

He knew from the moment he woke up in his bed with Michael sitting on the floor beside him and Nikki cleaning his living room that she wouldn’t heed his warnings. They weren’t clear… They didn’t really make sense, but he was so sure of what lived there.

_“Will you go after her?” he breathed, clinging to Michael’s shirt and sobbing into his shoulder. “I don’t want the Slaughter to take her…”_

_“I’ll go… I’ll make sure she gets out alive.” Michael presses him closer, his long, but distinctly not sharp fingers carding through dark strands of hair with tender fervor. “She’s going to be okay.”_

Yes, Jon knows that Melanie didn’t listen to him... He doesn’t even need to see her wandering down into the archive, deep purple bags under her eyes and a bandage snaking up her arm. He doesn’t need to hear her telling the others that she’s looking for him or the way her footsteps seem just off when she turns into his dark office. He just knows; he can feel it.

Melanie sits in the chair across from him and tries to look into his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to _look_ back… until she finally speaks. “You were right,” she admits, “I shouldn’t have gone to the railyard.” Jon nods jerkily. “...I know you sent Michael after us, and I…” Finally, Jon meets her searching gaze. “Thank you.”

“I had to do something,” he rasps. “I couldn’t let you face the Slaughter alone.”

* * *

The moment Melanie leaves the archives, Jon turns to find all three assistants hanging out at Martin’s desk and staring at him… Without thinking, he reaches out for their surface thoughts and balks slightly; what the fuck?

Martin takes this moment to sternly begin, “Jon, you know that we care about you… and we’re worried about you.”

Jon snorts and quickly covers his mouth to stifle more laughter. “That’s the most cliche start to an intervention speech ever!”

Sasha’s eyebrows raise. “So you know what this is about?”

“Well, not exactly… but come on!” He leans against the wall and regards them with clear amusement. “What do you want to discuss? Caffeine? The fact that I ask Martin to tell me sad stories when I need to refill a pen? The fact that I’ve been nice to Elias for the past week because I’ve been to busy to fuck with him?”

“Statements,” Tim grits out.

“Huh?”

Martin lays a hand on Tim’s shoulder and offers Jon a kind and understanding smile. “I know you need them, but Eyeris admitted that you’re taking more than the two of you need to be healthy and happy.”

“We think you need to slow down,” Sasha continues, her gaze dropping onto the messy surface of Martin’s desk. “We don’t want you to work yourself too hard or… run out of food.”

“Fine… I’ll think about it,” Jon concedes. “I’ll admit I’ve been going a bit hard on actual statements, and I could probably cut back.” He sighs and stands up before coming to the realization that he hasn’t seen his patron all day. “Uh… where’s Eyeris?”

Sasha points into the messy stacks. “It said that it was going to catch the mouse, and… speak of the eldritch!” Eyeris emerges from the darkness of the stacks with said dead mouse that it shows them proudly before turning and jumping onto Sasha’s desk. “Don’t you dare.” It drops it. “Really?!?”

* * *

[Jon and Eyeris](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDAKEclBMfm/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... guess who gets introduced in the next one... at a gala... and flirts with Martin and Jon to piss off Elias.


	12. Dancing in the Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's Peter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasha: Sweater Turkey  
> Tim: Stoner Pretzels  
> Martin: Peppermint Jam  
> Jon: Kazoo

_Friday, September 17, 15:26_

**To: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu, m-blackwood@magnusinstitute.edu, sa-james@magnusinstitute.edu, t-stoker@magnusinstitute.edu**

**From: e-bouchard@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject: Reminder - Lukas Family Gala**

Good afternoon,

I thought it would be pertinent to remind you all of our obligation to attend the Lukas Family Gala at Moorland House tomorrow at 20:00. I expect all of you to arrive on time and in appropriate attire for a black tie event.

Have a good evening,

Elias Bouchard.

* * *

**“Sock Shooooes 2: Electric Boogaloo”**

**_Peppermint Jam and Stoner Pretzels are online._ **

**Stoner Pretzels:** soooo…

 **Stoner Pretzels:** marto and i forgot about that dance thingy

**_Sweater Turkey and Kazoo are online._ **

**Sweater Turkey:** same

 **Kazoo:** yall are disgraces

 **Stoner Pretzels:** u remembered boss?? i am shooketh

 **Kazoo:** why wouldnt i?

 **Kazoo:** im going to give bitchard a heart attack

 **Kazoo:** side note: im wearing purple black and green if yall want to match

 **Peppermint Jam:** best i can do is black

 **Stoner Pretzels:** same

 **Sweater Turkey:** what color purple

 **Kazoo:** closeupofdress.png

 **Sweater Turkey:** damn

 **Sweater Turkey:** i dont have anything that color

 **Peppermint Jam:** time to clash horribly

 **Stoner Pretzels:** yup

 **Kazoo:** thatll work

_Saturday, September 18, 19:45_

**Stoner Pretzels:** bossman where r u?

 **Sweater Turkey:** dont make us go in alone

 **Kazoo:** pulling up now

 **Kazoo:** in hearse

* * *

True to Jon's word, a meticulously cleaned hearse pulls up just a few yards from the archival assistants, and Jon steps out in a long dark purple gown with a black corset. A vibrant green scarf the same color as his eyes creates a strange contrast between the varying shades of darkness on his person. "Sorry it took me so long," he calls and turns around to thank Nikki and gather Eyeris. "My hair wouldn't cooperate."

"Who the fuck has a hearse?" Tim hollers only to be smacked my Sasha. "Seriously?"

With a laugh, Jon joins their tiny anti-capitalist group, looking strangely stable in high-heeled boots. "That’s Nikki's. We stole it a few years ago."

"Why am I not surprised?" Tim grouses, but there's a soft sort of smile on his face; he and Nikola are talking quite a bit now.

"Because we're a bunch of chaotic neutrals with no lawful fuckers to make us behave." An alarm goes off on Jon's phone: 5 minutes to 20:00. "So… who's escorting who?"

Sasha holds up Tim's arm. "You're on pyromaniac duty."

Jon snorts but doesn't complain; why would he? “I guess it’s you and me then…”

"Seems so… You look… beautiful," Martin says and offers up his arm to be Jon's escort.

"As do you," Jon replies and reaches up to push an errant curl of ginger hair off of Martin's glasses. "Black is a good color on you." The hot flush contrasts horribly with Martin’s hair, but Jon doesn’t think he minds it… No, he certainly doesn’t mind.

“Thanks.”

* * *

Immediately after walking into the extravagant house, Sasha and Tim dart towards one of the walls, having seen Elias before he could see them; Jon and Martin are not so lucky. Jon groans lowly but gives Martin a reassuring look and leads the ginger further into the Lonely’s den; he Knows that they will not get out of this without at least humoring Magnus for a moment, but he doesn’t want Martin to be afraid. Eyeris slinks up their connected arms to curl around Martin’s neck, and he can’t help but feel grateful that his patron feels the same.

The man at Elias’s side perks up upon their arrival, and Jon finds himself glancing at his thoughts and sliding his Sight along the edges of his ravaged soul… Jon can smell the Lonely’s brine on his skin and taste the fog that fills up his being… He Knows… this is the most favored avatar of the Lonely.

After a moment, Elias brings Jon out of his investigation with an introduction. "Peter, this is Jonathan Sims, the new Head Archivist and one of his assistants, Martin Blackwood. Martin, Jon, this is Peter Lukas."

“Hello,” Martin starts and offers his hand.

“Pleasure,” Jon adds and holds out his unclaimed hand in turn.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Peter drawls and raises Jon’s hand to press a kiss against the leather glove. “I must say… You are very beautiful, Jonathan.” When he lets go of Jon, he turns an appraising look upon Martin in turn. “As are you, Martin.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon notices Elias’s displeased expression and makes a quick decision. “Such a flatterer,” he replies, “but do call me Jon.”

_‘Ask him about the Tundra. I am curious how long it takes him to realize that you’re a full-fledged avatar.’_

Slowly, Jon’s grin grows, and he softens his eyes into a twist of recognition; but to those who really know him, it isn’t quite believable. “I believe I’ve seen you out at the docks before… on a ship called the _Tundra_?”

There’s a slow crawling smile on Peter’s face, and the brine of the sea becomes sharper. “Ah, yes. I am the Captain.”

“Really? You must tell us about it then!”

Martin isn’t sure what Jon’s doing, but he caught Elias’s grimace as well… And he so wants to see what happens. “Yes, you must share… Jon and I were just talking about the sea… It must be so fascinating.”

“Well… I suppose I could spare a few minutes or so, but do feel free to stop me… I have so many stories I could tell. For example, last winter, my crew and I set out to America-”

A few moments later, Elias wanders off, having spotted Sasha and Tim near Nicholi Lukas... poor little traitors.

As soon as he’s definitely distracted, Peter stops his explanation with a sharp chuckle. “I apologize for dragging the both of you into it… and I know this might be unorthodox, but I am... “ Peter sighs harshly and runs a hand through his silvery hair. “I am trying to piss off Elias currently.”

“Say no more. We get it,” Jon replies, and there’s a strange twinkling in his eyes. “It’s what brings me joy during the workday.”

“That and arson,” Martin adds.

“We haven’t had a good trash can fire in a while.”

“Eh, give me a couple of days.”

Peter just barely manages to contain his shock at such callous talk of wanton pyromania in the archives. “Things must have changed quite a bit since Gertrude was archivist then.”

“Of course…” There’s a feral sort of edge to Jon’s grin, and Peter can feel the brush of static against his mind… And he Knows. “Gertrude wanted to hold us back… She was only a placeholder _until I was old enough._ ” Jon notices Elias looking their way and whispers to Martin quickly before detaching their arms and offering his hand to Peter again. “Would you dance with me?”

Peter looks over at Elias, and a slow, sadistic smile blooms. “It would be my honor,” he replies and tries not to react to the brush of Elias’s desperate curiosity; it’s so different from the way Jon scratched at his brain.

There’s a string quartet playing by the massive fireplace, inviting the fearless to dance, but few people take advantage. It’s often far too intimate for the Lukas family, but that intimacy is exactly what Jon needs to continue their conversation.

_“What does it feel like to be swaddled in the Lonely?”_

The compulsion in the archivist’s voice is soft like staticked silk, and Peter can’t help but lean into that pleasant touch. “It’s like a blanket…” he starts, and the brine charges the air between them. “It curls around you and chases away the heartache. You don’t feel alone when it comes… because it’s there with you… always in your head and soul. When you finally give in to it… You’re never really alone again.”

The dim glow in Jon’s eyes abates, and Peter finally realizes that they had been the same green as his scarf… the same green as the cat staring at them from its spot on Martin’s shoulder.

“How long?” he asks, and his breath catches in his throat as the brush of silk returns. “How long have you been the avatar of the beholding?”

Jon laughs sharply, bearing suddenly sharp canines. “Since the day I was born…” They spin, and the light catches a smattering of glitter in his hair… It reminds Peter of Nikola Orsinov. “The Eye and I have been inseparable for years now… It never leaves me really… Even when it’s using Martin as a tower.”

“So that is…”

“Yes.”

Peter glances out of the corner of his eye to see Elias grumpily sipping at his glass and trying to keep up small talk with those near him. “Does he know?”

“No,” Jon replies, his voice just a hair away from scathing. “And he cannot… Not yet. Not until we are ready for him to know… just how far down he’s fallen… We want him to figure it out on his own… but if he doesn’t…” The brush returns, and a sickeningly sweet voice curls in Peter’s mind. _‘We will tell him eventually. He must know of the Beholding’s plans… but not without working for it if he wants to have a place in our archives.’_

“Now you have me curious, little Archivist.”

There’s a pleasant hum at that response, and all of the stiffness in Jon’s spine evaporates; he’s glad. “I’m going to add you to the avatar group chat later.”

“There’s a group chat?”

“Yeah, but just for the ones I’m friends with.”

Jon stumbles slightly when the edge of his dress is caught under Peter’s left foot. “Sorry.”

“It happens… But you are definitely under Michael in terms of dance partners.”

“Michael?” Peter grips Jon’s waist harder as they twist, his fingers sliding slightly over the corset. “The Distortion, Michael?”

“Yes… We dance sometimes… especially when he takes me home.”

“Hmm… I was sure that you and Martin were a couple.”

Jon stumbles again, but this time, it’s from his own clumsy feet. “No… no, we’re not… I’m not with anyone currently…” He looks over at Martin who’s smiling at the two of them and absentmindedly petting Eyeris with the hand not holding a flute of champagne. “I mean… I wouldn’t mind being with him, but I doubt that he’d be receptive… He knows too much about me for that to happen.”

“Really?” Peter moves his hand up just slightly higher and hooks a finger in one of the laces to keep it from falling. “Because he looks smitten with you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

* * *

**"masters of bad decisions"**

_00:31_

**_Jonathan is online._ **

**_Jonathan added Peter to the chat._ **

**_Oliver, Michael, Nikki and Cane are online._ **

**Michael:** You Better Not Tell Bitchard About This Chat, Lukas.

 **Cane:** theyre divorced rt now

 **Nikki:** Ah. He's valid then.

 **Peter:** thanks for your approval nikola

 **Nikki:** Eh. You're in the group chat now. You can call me Nikki.

 **Peter:** such an honor

 **Oliver:** so… who are you??

 **Peter:** peter lukas avatar of the lonely

 **Peter:** u?

 **Oliver:** Oliver Banks. avatar of the end

 **Peter:** cool

 **Peter:** oh and before i forget

 **Peter:** my aunt took a picture of us **@Jonathan**

 **Jonathan:** rlly?

**Peter:** [dancing.png](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDUUi__hWyi/)

**Jonathan:**!!!!

 **Michael:**!!!!

 **Michael:** Is That The Dress Nikki Made???

 **Nikki:** Yes.

 **Oliver:** straight fire

 **Nikki:** Thank you.


	13. Overdoing It

_ Wednesday, September 30, 12:34 _

Elias stares at the acquisition form with something akin to annoyance mixed with despair. While the requested funds for a small renovation in the head archivist office and new computers for the entire archives is not heinous, the included lines for new ‘small kitchen appliances’ and emergency supplies fill him with trepidation. He Knows that ‘small kitchen appliances’ is code for a margarita machine, espresso machine, fancy tea kettle and an indoor grill. The emergency supplies are partially normal: more fire extinguishers (especially with the fourth fire that  _ magically _ started in the archives), a third first aid kit, flashlights, earplugs, and clean, non-archive-afflicted blankets, but he Knows that this also means booze, food and expensive tea. Once upon a time, he’d love nothing more than to simply reject anything dumb without a second to think about it, but that was before Peter cut him a check to go into the new ‘Jon Fund’. Peter was very specific about the nature of the Jon Fund; whatever the fuck Jon wants, Jon gets.

Still, Elias can’t help but want to try and talk some reason into the wayward man, even if he knows it will likely get him nowhere.

The stairs into the archive are darker than normal, one of the lights having broken during an  _ unfortunate accident  _ Elias was unable to witness due to a meeting with Maxwell Rayner, Simon Fairchild, and Peter. He was assured by the archive staff that it had accidentally been hit by a launched book when Sasha had tripped up the stairs, but he Knows that whatever happened has to do with a bet, plastic sleds, and tennis balls.

There's still a faint smell of smoke from the fire yesterday, but the staff doesn't pay it any mind… why would they when there's a very unprofessional band ( _'Falling in_ _Reverse,'_ he's informed) playing from a laptop in the corner, likely Jon's since it's covered in weird stickers like an ace of spades, an eyeball flower, and a skeleton on a skateboard. However, what's somehow more attention grabbing than the smoke, the laptop, the music or even Timothy Stoker's hideous, purple, Hawaiian shirt, is Jon himself.

Elias certainly wasn't expecting to see his archivist passed out, face down in the middle of the floor on a large jumper that must be Martin's.

“Why is Jon on the floor?”

"He walked into his office door twice today,” Tim explains, never once looking up from his paperwork, "so he's taking a nap."

"That does not explain why he's doing so on the floor. I am well aware that there is both a cot in document storage and a couch in his office."

"It's better if we can see him," Martin replies and takes a sip of his tea. "Puts our minds at ease."

Eyeris meows in agreement and hops onto Martin's desk for scritches.

Sasha steps out from her desk to place another finished, mundane statement into the 'boring' pile. As she does so, she looks Elias in the eye with a mostly schooled expression of polite courtesy. She'd feel annoyed if too much contempt were to leak through. "Whatever you want to talk about, I'm sure we can either help you or take a message."

However, before Elias can speak again, Rosie appears holding a fluffy pillow and an oversized, soft blanket.

"Ah! Thank you, Rosie! "Martin croons. "Those are perfect." With that, the man extracts himself from the desk to help Sasha and Rosie get Jon more comfortable; not that he wakes up once while their hands arrange him...

And Elias leaves, finally giving into the unease that permeates the archives in a way it never did before.


	14. A Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias gets a hint of just how royally screwed he is.

_ Friday, October 16, 9:03 _

**To: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**From: r-brankin@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject:** Delivery

Jon,

There's a delivery in the lobby for you. I think part of it is a table, and there's also a small envelope. I don't know if you want it in the archives, but I'm wary about leaving it out here too. Something’s off about it.

-Rosie

**To: r-brankin@magnusinstitute.edu**

**From: j-sims@magnusinstitute.edu**

**Subject:** Re: Delivery

I'm on my way up.

Don't let anyone touch it until I say it's safe to do so.

* * *

With a quick call to the assistants, Jon heads upstairs to find Rosie hanging about the lobby, warning everyone off of the table. “Hello, Rosie dear!”

“Jon!” she calls back, looking relieved. “Something is definitely up with this thing.”

Jon finds himself standing before a lovely dark wood table with a hypnotic spiderweb pattern across its surface. In the center is a removable box, and Jon Knows that it contains a shapeshifter… a NotThem. He sighs loudly and rips off his jacket to cover up the top, revealing a sleeveless crop top that shows off the bottom edge of his most prominent back tattoo: a memorial to the Mechanisms.

From his back pocket, he pulls out his phone and offers Rosie a soft smile. “I’m going to get this thing out of here, but as long as no one moves my jacket or touches the table, we should be fine until it’s picked up.”

Rosie nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” With that, he dials Nikola and leans against the wall, watching the passersby with suspicion and annoyance.

“Hello, Jon!”

“Hey, Nikki… I need your help with something.”

* * *

Elias Bouchard is not having a good day.

It started with spilling coffee on his dress shirt before he left the house. Then he got a text from Peter asking for a meeting between themselves and Simon later. Then he got stuck in traffic and was an hour late getting to the institute… and then, Breekon and Hope dropped off the web table.

Now this didn’t have to be a terrible thing; Elias was quite ready to move it into archive storage… but then goddamned Jonathan Sims came upstairs and started calling someone called Nikki. Elias is curious, so even as he starts walking down to the lobby, he continues keeping an eye on the conversation.

“Breekon and Hope dropped off something that’s better off with you… Yea, I know they’re morons… It’s the table… I don’t want it in the institute… and certainly not in my archives… I don’t give a damn what Elias thinks about it… I can stay late tonight.”

Oh how the curiosity burns at this insides. “Jon.” At the sound of his voice, Jon looks up at Elias and mouths ‘what’. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Jon flips him off and continues on with his conversation. “Honestly, the sooner you get it the better, but if you come after we close, then we can get dinner… Of course, I want dinner with them too… I'll ask but if you and Tim get me kicked out of my favorite restaurant, you're banned from my flat… And not a soft ban like Mike's on… Of course I won't ban Michael; he's the Picard to my Data… Shut up… I'm hanging up on you… Because I'm in the middle of the lobby, Elias is looking at me, and it's been a bit since something in the archives caught fire… No, he's not alone down there… Sasha is the impulse control and I caught her putting googly eyes on office equipment, so I have no faith in her today… Yes… Love you too… Uh huh… See you at seven."

When he hangs up, he accepts the second package from Rosie and heads back downstairs, pointedly ignoring Elias as he does so.

* * *

"I don't know what to do, Peter…" Elias can barely keep himself from slamming his head against the table repeatedly, but that would be a sign of weakness… and he doesn't want to give the other two any more ammunition. "He's perfect… He's so much more powerful than Gertrude ever was, but he's a giant asshole." He runs his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, causing it to separate in little waves. "I can't get him to take any of my advice or even talk to me half the time."

Simon snickers and knocks back the rest of his glass of wine. "So you picked someone more stubborn than you. It's not the end of the world… Get a new one."

Peter throws a scrunched up napkin at Simon's face. "Yeah, no. Jon is the best Archivist you'll ever have… and I will be beyond pissed if he dies."

Simon looks surprised, even as he throws the napkin back. "Is the lonely boy making friends now?”

Peter’s eyes narrow, and his lips thin with the gritting of teeth. “Simon Fairchild. You have no idea who you’re offering up to death… He’d chew you up and spit you out a mangled corpse left out to rot… Honestly, you’re lucky he doesn’t blame you for his father’s death.”

“Huh?”

The merlot tastes bitter on his tongue. “Teru Sims… Jon’s father was murdered by someone in your family… and that someone is already dead."

Elias can tell that Simon's mind is racing, running through the Fairchild's in name and not to try and figure out just who could have been taken out. There's only three possibilities and only one of them was killed by someone other than a hunter: Edwin Fairchild who'd shown up skinned and deeply twisted by the Distortion; they never knew why Edwin was attacked by both the Spiral and the Stranger.

"It was Edwin, wasn't it?" Simon asks, and there's the barest edge of a shake whose origin could either be anger or fear.

Peter nods solemnly.

"So you're telling me that either the Archivist is capable of making it look like the Stranger and the Spiral went after him or that he's friends with agents of them?"

Peter grins widely at Elias’s incredulous tone, finding himself thinking back to the conversation at the gala, and he wonders if he should interfere. "You… don't know about Jon's twitter, do you?"

"No…"

After a final moment of deliberation, Peter sighs and holds out his hand for Elias’s phone; he's still surprised that Elias has a twitter account with how little he uses it. "There… Jon's handle is @MechaEyeris. Don't follow him, or he'll block you."

Elias wants to ask why his ex knows about Jon's account, but he's sure the answer is friendship related. Instead, he and Simon crowd around the screen to read some of Jon's more recent tweets and mentions… and oh no…

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

can people stoP SENDING ME CURSED SHIT AT WORK?

Also @circussoldier ur a fucking g

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Nikola @circussoldier _

Love you too, Jon! Now come outside. I brought the hearse.

_ Replying to @circussoldier _

_ Timothy Stoker @stokedaf _

nikki!!! i wanna ride in the hearse!

_ Replying to @stokedaf _

_ Martin Blackwood @MarsonBlackerwood _

Maybe u should have stayed late then.

_ Replying to @MarsonBlackerwood _

_ Timothy Stoker @stokedaf _

hahahahaha no.

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Michael Scizzorhands @spiraling _

There Goes My Plans For Christmas.

_ Replying to @spiraling _

_ Mike Crew @ThunderMcQueen _

you and @MechaEyeris are the gayest queerplatonic people i know __

_ Replying to @ThunderMcQueen _

_ thedaisymoderator @AshesHussain _

jon only has three levels of friendship

1: no 2: yes 3: barnacle

_ Replying to @AshesHussain @MechaEyeris _

_ dont worry i ignore everyone @PeterLukas _

wait what level am I on?? Jon sat in my lap the other day and it wasn't to piss off elias.

_ Replying to @PeterLukas _

_ thedaisymoderator @AshesHussain _

3 jon has barnacled to you

its all very clear according to the friendship chart

_ Replying to @PeterLukas @AshesHussain _

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

i hate that theres a chart

@AurorasGirl @GunpowderTim why did you make a chart???

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Nastya Rasputina @AurorasGirl _

michael was confused and then nikki was confused and then tim was confused and we got tired of explaining

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Annabelle Cane @weaver _

I will not apologize. You don't take enough breaks. Even if I have to entice you to smoke, you will take breaks.

_ Replying to @weaver _

_ Georgie Barker @wtghost _

He's supposed to be quitting Anna!

_ Replying to @wtghost _

_ Annabelle Cane @weaver _

The day Jon actually quits smoking I will personally invite @spiraling into my fridge.

_ Replying to @weaver _

_ Michael Scizzorhands @spiraling _

I Was In Your Fridge Yesterday. You Need To Go To The Grocery.

_ Replying to @spiraling _

_ Annabelle Cane @weaver _

I SWEAR TO GOD MICHAEL. STAY OUT OF MY FRIDGE

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Hopworth @froggerboi _

What aBout Bones???

_ Replying to @froggerboi _

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

r they cursed?

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Hopworth @froggerboi _

No But they're human

_ Replying @froggerboi _

_ Jonathan and Eyeris Sims @MechaEyeris _

as long as they're clean yes

_ Replying to @MechaEyeris _

_ Hopworth @froggerboi _

i will Bring theM Monday

Elias abruptly stops scrolling and drops his phone to the table with wide eyes. "How?? How... the fuck did I pick an Archivist who's friends with so many avatars?"

Peter snickers and takes another bite of his steak. "I promise that he knows more than those who responded on twitter today."


	15. Richardson and Banks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we have Helen

_ Monday, October 26 10:10 _

Helen Richardson is not used to the supernatural. So it's no wonder that it takes three days after discharge from the hospital for her to wander into the institute in hopes that someone will be able to explain what the hell happened.

However, when she's led into the Head Archivist’s office, she's less than impressed by the young man in a stained, blue jumper and dark gray sweatpants taking a nap on the couch. She almost asks the nice young man (Martin, right?) to take her statement instead, but then she sees the cat sitting on the desk, its vibrant green eyes positively glowing with delight.

"Eyeris," Martin chimes, "will you wake up Jon, please? Then we can go to Starbucks." Eyeris turns quickly on heel and jumps on Jon's stomach, forcing a pained sound out of the now awake archivist.

Jon quickly snatches up the cat in his arms and sits up with a quiet yawn. "Hey, Martin… how long was I out?" He stands up in one long fluid motion; from what Helen can see of his legs, he seems to be in a strange bastardized fifth position of ballet. With the grace he exhibits moving out of that pose, she wonders if he took ballet once upon a time.

Martin accepts the cat from Jon's arms and allows it to curl up around his neck. "An hour tops."

"Ugh." Jon swipes his hand over his face. "No wonder I feel like shit."

There's a mischievous grin to the taller man's face when he sing-songs, "and what have we learned?"

"To not drink anything Brian gives me."

"Are you sure that's it? Because I swear you said something else when I helped Nikki carry you to bed."

"...Martin’s always right…"

"Yes, I am." He ruffles Jon's hair and points at Helen. "Statement. I'll bring you back coffee." He looks at her with a soft smile. "Would you like anything, Miss Richardson?"

Helen shakes her head. "No, thank you."

The moment the door closes, Helen realizes how weird this office is: human bones (she hopes they're fake), glass eyes in a jar, a children's book, a fleece blanket covered in eyes… The feeling dissipates slightly when Jon turns on the lamp in the corner and turns up the brightness of the one on his desk.

She can see his face more clearly than before, and a sense of calmness creeps in; he'll believe her… she's sure of it.

"My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am the Archivist." It sounds like a  _ title _ . "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She takes a deep breath and then shakes his hand; it's warmer than she expected. "Helen Richardson," she stiffly replies.

Jon only smiles in return and gestures for her to take the seat across from his. "So, Martin said you want to make a statement?"

"Y-yes."

"Alright then." Jon fishes out a blank tape and slides it into the player. "Analog is best," he explains, seeing her confusion. "True statements don't like digital recordings… so it's faster just to start with analog sometimes… Are you ready?"

She nods once; part of her wants to draw him a map to try and explain better… but she's sure that he won't need it to understand.

"Statement of Helen Richardson regarding…"

"...a door that shouldn't have been there."

"Statement recorded directly from subject, October 26th, 2015. Statement begins..."

_ "I worked for Wolverton Kendrick. I still do, I suppose, I haven’t officially quit, but I haven’t been back there since this happened…" _

* * *

_"...I decided to come to you and tell you my story. Maybe you can make some sense of this."_ Helen looks up at Jon to find the archivist’s eyes trained directly on her face. There's no judgement in them or even pity… there's just cold understanding. "What?" she croaks; her voice hurts from so much talking.

"You're in pretty deep," Jon states, watching as Helen's teary, fearful eyes widen. "Your options are to avoid Distortion's doors until it grows bored of you or to walk inside and accept it… Either way, it's your choice in the end…"

Helen stands quickly, equal parts frightened and angry. "You're of no help!" she snaps and pushes her chair in roughly.

To that, Jon simply smiles and replies, "watch out for yellow doors… and spiral handles."

He Knows that Helen heard him. He Knows that Helen wants to take his advice… but the choice has been made; it was made the moment she came looking for his advice.

When the vibrant door closes behind her, Jon shakes his head and earnestly mutters, "I wonder if she'll make a good waitress."

* * *

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door, shaking Jon out of his reverie, and with a moment to label Helen's statement and slide it into the box named  _ Michael's Bored _ , he calls out, "come in, Oliver. "

When the door finally opens, Oliver deposits two frappuccinos on the desk: one java chip and the other some horrifying pink thing; Jon's relieved the java chip is his. Oliver slides into the newly vacant chair and kicks his feet up. "So what happened to the statement lady?"

"Michael."

"Ah… sucks."

"There are worse ways to die."

Oliver shakes his head, chuckling. "You don't have to tell me that." He takes a sip of his pink monstrosity and hums thoughtfully before sliding it Jon's way. "And speaking of death…"

Jon takes a sip and gags. "What?"

"New perk." Oliver twirls his fingers around the air like one would a pencil and a staff materializes in his hand and then grows a blade.

Jon blinks. "Huh… Isn't a scythe just a little on the nose?"

"Eh. It's fuckin cool though."

"Yea… but I like mine more."

Oliver looks back at Jon with confusion. "Your what?"

"This." Jon slams a black gun on the desktop.

"What the fuck?"

"Surprised?"

"Somehow… no."


	16. Lockdown

_ Friday, October 30 15:23 _

Jon really had contemplated leaving early just to get some more sleep; he really was going to… So it only makes sense that this is the day the Archives are to be put in lockdown.

Dutifully locking the doors, Jon calls out to the trio in the kitchenette, "how's the emergency booze acquisitions?"

Upon entering the bright room, he finds a small cluster of bottles on the counter and a beat up set of cards in front of Martin. None of his assistants seem all that perturbed despite the circumstances, but he supposes that having an eldritch being around everyday would make this situation seem a little… mundane.

“Acquisitioned,” Sasha eventually replies and drops a package of biscuits on the table, “but Tim texted Nikki.”

Jon turns his attention to the dark-haired man who's busy fiddling with a fire extinguisher and muttering about whether or not Michael could eat the foam. He quickly decides that it isn't worth asking and instead settles down across from Martin for a quick round of war.

So engrossed in the ensuing battle, Jon doesn't realize when a door opens up behind him to unveil two people: Nikki and Michael. Long arms wrap soon around him and pull him backwards into a bony, yet comfortable hug. "Hello, triskele," Michael croons and hugs him tighter, pulling a sort of rumbling purr from Jon's throat.

"We bought more booze," Nikki adds but barely stops to ruffle Jon's hair on her way to the counter.

"Good," Tim chirps, finally setting down the extinguishers near the table in case Prentiss gets the bright idea to come into the archives. "We're going to need it."

Five incredulous faces turn his way, but only Sasha decides to ask. "Why do we  _ need _ it?"

"How else are we going to play Never Have I Ever?"

* * *

"This is such a bad idea," Martin grouses but quickly downs his prescribed shot of bottom shelf vodka. "And this is fucking gross."

"Maybe you shouldn't have lied on your resume," Sasha retorts, but the smile on her face promises that it's all in good fun.

"And I told you in confidence!" he hisses back. "And also, never have I ever had sex in a dumpster!"

Both Tim and Sasha take their shots with a similar cry, "and we told you that in confidence!"

Before the bickering can get any more heated, Michael takes his turn with a fairly innocent, non-directed prompt. “Never have I ever flashed a bartender for a free drink.” The bickering promptly stops when Tim, Sasha and Jon turn, look him dead in the eye and take a shot.

Nikki with a face of serene pleasure continues, “never have I ever fallen asleep at work.” Finally, Michael has to take a drink, but no one seems surprised about it… or Tim or Jon.

Instead, Tim takes the moment to try a direct attack against Martin. “Never have I ever tried hard drugs.”

Jon blinks at him and asks, “what constitutes hard drugs?”

“Just fucking take the shot, Jon,” Nikki replies with a quick roll of her eyes. “I think cocaine, ecstasy and mushrooms fucking count.”

“Do mushrooms really count though?”

“Take the shot, Jon!”

“I already did.” True to his word, his newly filled glass was already empty. “Also, never have I worn Crocs with socks.”

“And you have no concept of fashion.”

“Agreed,” Tim cuts in and tosses back his. “Who’s turn is it anyways?”

Sasha holds up a finger, finishes the tea biscuit she’d been gnawing on and prompts, “never have I ever been arrested.” She was expecting Tim and Martin and suspected both Nikki and Jon; she was not expecting Michael. “Wait… what did you do Michael?”

“Got in a fistfight with a cop. He was being an ass, and I really wanted to go to bed.” For a second, he almost looks guilty. “He was the first person I ate after becoming… well me.” Jon abruptly leaves his seat and curls up in Michael’s lap without a word, and the guilty expression on his face softens and eventually disappears. “Love you too, triskele.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, no one sure if they should continue until Eyeris jumps up on the table and settles into Martin’s lap with an amused purr.  _ “Either continue or choose another game. All this quiet is giving me a migraine.” _

“You don’t even have a brain,” Jon shoots back.

_ “Fine, a supraocular headache.” _

Jon rolls his eyes, but before he can make another comment, Martin cuts in, “never have I ever been invited to a threesome.” Jon, Tim, Sasha, and Nikki look more or less nonplussed to admit it.

After a moment for the four to refill their shot glasses, Michael smiles widely and presses a kiss to Jon’s hair. “Never have I ever sang in public outside of karaoke.”

“Whatever,” Jon replies, lightly swatting at the aspect’s arm; still, neither he nor Nikki actively complain.

“Never have I ever been hospitalized for something other than being born.”

The others look at Nikki with amusement before Tim finally retorts with, “you weren’t even born!”

“And?”

“Fair enough, I guess… Never have I ever marched in a protest,” Tim asks, having thoroughly exhausted all of his ideas… either that or he’s finally feeling just the slightest edge of a buzz; it turns out that Sasha’s the only other one who hasn’t.

Jon purrs out an idea that he’s sure will grab one of his human friends. “Never have I ever gotten a tattoo…” He doesn’t miss the way that Nikki snickers with disbelief. “...that I regret.”

“I thought for fucking sure you were going to end at getting a tattoo.” Tim takes his shot with all the dignity a man with an ex’s name can muster. “And I was going to call you out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon replies. “I definitely don’t have between nine and seventeen tattoos depending on if you consider my back one to be one or nine.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Martin interjects, clearly confused but also… excited? “You have seventeen tattoos?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Sasha echoes, causing the youngest avatar to merely shrug.

“Eh, give me time. I’ve got six more planned for the next party…”


	17. Tunneler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finally meets Jane face to face

_ Saturday October 31st, 2:39 _

It’s in the wee hours of the morning that Jon wakes up stone-cold sober and thoroughly annoyed. There's a squealing, flesh worm held in Eyeris’s teeth just a few inches from his face and an equally annoyed look in the eldritch's eye.

'Where was it?' Jon asks and slowly sits up as it's pulled away.

_ 'Just outside of the trapdoor… Prentiss far too close… but still far enough that it is hard to see her.' _

'I see… where are Michael and Nikki?'

Eyeris turns without answering and heads back to the trapdoor where Michael and Nikki are standing, staring at the open maw with disdain. "I'm going down with you," Michael impresses, and splays apart his knife-like fingers with a strange sort of flair.

"Then you'll protect the other?" Jon asks, having turned his attention solely to the stranger.

"Of course. No worm or other unwanted bug will come near them."

"Thank you." Nikki only nods and watches impassively as Jon, Michael and Eyeris climb into the abyss with only the luminous glow of the green eyes to light up their surroundings.

The tunnels are long and damp and twisted, but there's an odd calmness to be found this deep within the temple, so deep within the eye that you cannot be seen, only felt. The worms that squirm along the floor are largely ignored for the squirm away from the three inhuman presences that still hold one of their own hostage. Some try to lead them away from their hive–their  _ mother _ – but it's so damn easy to see right through their simple minds.

There, curled up against a dead end wall and breathing heavily is Jane Prentiss. Her eyes are bloodshot and her skin deathly pale in the places that aren't simply holes. There's a singing from her body, one that calls her to stay to give up the last breaths she has.

Jon blinks at her and at last, Understands. "You have to die, Jane." She jerks her head up, a ravenous, beastial snarl on an otherwise grimly beautiful face, but the next words make her still. "If you want to be their mother forever, you have to give up what little humanity you have left… You will be such a good avatar, such a good mother if you only let them sing you to the grave."

"I can't leave them!" she cries, causing Michael to move closer out of worry.

"And you won't have to," Jon replies and accepts the squirming thing in Eyeris’s teeth. He holds it just behind the head, keeping it from biting into his flesh as he walks closer to the trembling woman. "You can stay down here and let the song claim you, come back as the best mother you can… and then leave the tunnels for good. You can choose to die which will condemn them all in the end… Or you can leave now and decide outside of our place." He places the worm in her palm and watches with fascination as it nuzzles against her before sliding into the warm sanctuary of her flesh. "But it's your choice, Jane."

"You would let me stay?" Jon nods and watches as the woman curls up on the dark ground, a wistful sort of smile on her face. “I want to stay… I want to be a good mother.”

“Then you will.”

* * *

On the way out, Eyeris pauses and hisses into the darkness.

“What is it?” Michael asks but turns to look as well, and then he sees it: the ragged edge of a cardigan. “That looks like…”

They walk in as one, all on edge until they find a strange old man in the same room as a quickly decaying corpse: Gertrude Robinson.

“Hello, Jurgen Leitner,” Jon croons, a musical, mocking edge to his voice. “Have you finally decided to come out of hiding?”

The old man looks up from the book held in his arms, his eyes wide and a little worried. “You’ve taken care of the hive?”

“Of course,” Jon purrs and takes a step forward and then another. “But you didn’t answer my question.  _ Tell me Jurgen Leitner, have you decided to come out of hiding? _ ”

“N-no,” he trembles and takes a step back against the wall. “I just… just wanted you to find Gertrude’s corpse.”

With that, the wall suddenly flips around, separating Leitner from the other three, and leaves Jon sighing and shaking his head. “I swear we’re never getting that parasite out of the tunnels.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm obviously planning on finishing this, Mirror and the Eldritch Jons, but I'm trying to figure out which of my ideas I'll work when those are done.
> 
> After Falsetto I'm going to work on Safehouse 2 (Omega Michael, Non-Orientated Jason friendship), but after the above, here's my current ideas.
> 
> -Deathly Beloved: (Final Destination 2) rewrite with Death being so very obsesses with Alex and keeping him alive to fuck with
> 
> -Magus Oculus: (Harry Potter and TMA crossover) Jon was raised as Luna Lovegood's brother. This takes place after Jon graduates and becomes the Archivist
> 
> -A Brother's Love: (Friday the 13th and Halloween crossover) Michael is adopted by Pamela Voorhees after Judith abandons him in New Jersey. When she dies, Jason wakes up and takes care of his baby brother.
> 
> -Elephant Memories: (TMA) Original Elias was a "senior" in college when Jon was a "freshman". Magnus remembers everything that happened with Jon, so he's torn between trying to rekindle the relationship Original Elias had with Jon and pushing Jon into becoming the Archivist
> 
> -Mouthful of Gum: (Multi-Slasher Crossover) Michael and Jason are friends, the Crystal Lake townsfolk know about both of them and try to keep it a secret because Jason is a lot less temperamental when his friend's around, and the only reason to put up with Charles Lee Ray is his adorable kid (Glen).
> 
> If you've got thoughts on which one you'd like to see most, please let me know!


	18. Archive Crew vs the Copper Lesbians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short but i had to

_ Monday, November 2nd 9:22 _

It's shaping up to be a wholly unproductive day when Elias comes into the archives with two unfamiliar cops: an arabic woman with a blue and black starry hijab and an incredibly muscular, blonde woman with at least six inches on her partner. The moment they step inside, the two women bypass Elias and head straight for Sasha’s desk where the three assistants are putting stickers on the staplers and scissors.

"Good morning," Basira greets, giving a quaint and gentle smile. "Is Jon in yet?"

Martin looks up once he finishes placing the last star on his stapler. "No, he isn't. Perhaps we could help though, Miss?"

"Detective Basira Hussain, and this is my partner, Daisy Tonner." Daisy nods at the trio when Tim and Sasha’s heads shoot up. "Jon's told us quite a bit about you three."

Tim's eyes only seem to widen as he asks, "how do you know Jon?"

"He's a friend," Daisy curtly replies, leaving Basira to explain.

"I met Jon in college… Daisy met him through me." She flips through her phone's gallery to find the group selfie with her, Daisy, Jon and Nikki. "We're all quite close."

There's a laugh in Martin's face when he replies, "I can see that… Guess you're here about Gertrude’s body then."

"Yes, we are, but it's more of a formality than anything." Basira slides her phone back into her pocket. "Considering what she did to Michael alone…" Daisy nods in agreement but doesn't abandon the staring contest that she's started with Elias. "...are you going to join the conversation, Daisy? Or are you going to keep asserting dominance."

"That's a dumb fucking question," Daisy grouses, seeming not to notice the amusement pouring off the assistants. "The more I look at him, the more I want to set him on fire… Honestly, I don't know how Jon can stand that fuckin hoebag."

The brutal laughter echoes in the archives as Jon and Eyeris appear in the doorway with a box of leftover Thai and an iced coffee. However despite the oddity of the scene before them: (Daisy staring daggers into Elias as if hoping he'd die from her gaze alone, Basira burying her face in the fabric of her hijab, Tim's eyes being accented by little shiny star stickers, and both Sasha and Martin snickering into their staplers), they take it in stride.

"Hi, Daisy. Hi, Sira. What’cha doing here?"

The laughter dies down a bit when they realize he's arrived. "Investigating a murder."

Jon hums thoughtfully. "Neat… when you’re done, come find me. I haven’t been kidnapped in a while."

Daisy looks thrilled at that idea. "I’m taking that as a challenge."

* * *

**"Masters of Bad Decisions"**

_ 9:42 _

**_Jonathan is online._ **

**Jonathan:** _ @daisy  _ did u srsly call Elias a hoebag to his face???

**_daisy is online._ **

**daisy:** yea

**Jonathan:** i will give u 50 if u only call him mr hoebag for the rest of the day

**daisy:** bitch id do it for free


	19. Shanties on the Tundra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short but I thought it was just too cute to remove. Next chapter will be more substantial

_Peter_

_Thursday, November 12 12:36_

im back

hows my ex?

bein a dick

daisy and sira came by not too long ago. i have video of daisy callin him mr hoebag if u want it

wait rly?

send it!

mrhoebag.mp4

oh god thats so good

ikr?!

u doin anythin this weekend?

meeting with grandfather on sat

nothin after that. y?

wanna get shitfaced?

id say yes but im terrified of seeing you drunk

im not that bad

…

would you feel better with reinforcements?

maybe

wanna meet the rest of my friends then?

!!!

we could have a paryy on the tundra!

party*

i feel like thats a bad idea

aww

fine

ily!!!

uh huh

* * *

_Saturday, November 14 20:15_

Peter’s torn between fear and awe when he sees Nikola Orsinov's hearse spill out strangers like a clown car. The only familiar face besides Nikki is Basira Hussain who's holding hands with a severe-looking blonde woman. The nine head up the  _ Tundra's  _ ramp with giddy grins and copious amounts of booze.

"We're a bit early!" Nikki announces and offers a hug to Peter. "It's good to see you though."

Peter smiles softly and accepts her hug with mild apprehension. "It's good to see you too, Nikki." When they part, he waves her attention towards the petite body of Annabelle Cane and the mildly neurotic argument between Jude Perry and Mike Crew. "I'm surprised you weren't first." High in the rafters is the black body of Mr. Spider who offers Nikki a tip of his hat before going back to his intricate weaving of rope into a web of sorts. “Mr. Spider’s been here since six.”

With a low snicker, Nikki claps Peter’s shoulder and replies, “he’s always early, and he always leaves early. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he stays just long enough to meet the archival assistants.”

Peter nods understandingly. “I know that feeling…”

The creaking of a yellow door opening up from a crate stops Nikki from making a callous remark about the Forsaken’s M.O. However, that noise is quickly swallowed up by the non-stop chatter spilling out of Timothy Stoker’s mouth as if to ward off the rampant nausea curling low in his gut from the eye-gouging colors of the Distortion’s hallways. Martin and Sasha both look a bit green, but they are thankfully silent when they walk out behind Michael and Tim.

“I’m just saying,” Tim continues, barely looking at the congregation of people he’s never met, “the only reason that Jon didn’t want to come with us is that he’d rather that we suffer while he takes a nap.”

While not entirely untrue, the accusation isn’t particularly interesting or amusing enough to hold anyone’s attention… especially not when Nikki’s holding up a bucket of biodegradable glitter.

Mr. Spider manages to stay for a half-hour before the noise grows to be too much for the near-silent predator, but his departure does little to dampen the excitement that glitter, booze and an unholy new friendship (Gunpowder and Tim hit it off surprisingly quickly) brings.

When Jon appears at last in a sleeveless grey dress and massive heels that still leave him dwarfed next to a rather nonplussed Oliver Banks, his friend’s are already caked in glitter. Peter, even, despite his initial desire to stay out of such a messy fight, conceded to Nikki and Annabelle’s jeers and fell victim to Michael… and so does Jon.

* * *

_"...What shall we do with a drunk space pirate? Distant stars are waiting…"_

Too enraptured by the sight of Jon drunkenly leading the mechs in a rousing shanty that has Peter Lukas laughing baudily, Martin can't bring himself to look away, even as he tries to offer his ideas to Tim. "Do you think they're in a band?"

"...as weird as Jon is, I-I don't know."

Martin chances a look at his phone, typing in the lyrics as fast as he can. "Well… fuck."

"What?" Tim accepts the wordlessly offered phone and glances at the photoshoot for the band The Mechanisms. "For fucks sake… is there anything weird he hasn't done?"

Martin shakes his head slightly and mutters, "I have no idea."

_"...way hay, the wormhole beckons. Distant stars are waiting…"_


	20. Waltzing Interrupted

_ Wednesday, November 25 0:22 _

There's a quieter hum in the hallways, muted but still vibrating on the edges of his consciousness. He hums along as they spin, and the many eyes blink in time to the twinkling lights from the facsimile of stars overhead. The constellations sing with glimmering whispers, blinking in and out of consciousness in a twisting nebula of color that simultaneously clashes and harmonizes with the deep purple and black walls.

Michael is soft around the edges, melting into the backdrop as he spins Jon in slow spirals that leave the young eldritch dizzy and smiling. His fingers are blunt shapes, soft and yielding against the shoulders and back of Jon’s silken top, yet promise danger when he catches a glimpse of something much sharper than they first appear to be. He’s loose and spun tight in excited bliss, entranced and contented by the knowledge that he’s no longer the only being that haunts the twisted hallways.

A sister of sorts… Michael desperately wanted Jon to meet the woman who braved the perils of the distortion and saw the spiral for the majesty it was… Jon Knows that he’s met this woman as she was before, but the antithetical being she is now is far from the vague memory of Helen Richardson.

Helen watches them with soft eyes that gleam with the iridescence of a shell’s insides, worn by the ocean until it gleams with the rainbow of the skies. She’s lanky yet small, simultaneously a being of fear and warmth… When she smiles, showing off far too many teeth, it betrays the contentment in her soul. She fades at the edges, shifting through shapes and splitting into colors beyond the human spectrum, and when at last Michael stills his spiraling dance, she finds herself sliding along the electric edge of his current form.

“Helen,” Jon whispers, his voice strangely melodic like the tearing of tape from a recorder and the ticking of an old grandfather clock, swaying in the dusty parlor as the dance slides into their minds and bares their soul to its infernal song. “Would you dance with me?”

Her fingers, all sharp edges but soft to the touch, reach out, pricking the Archivist’s skin and healing it all at once. He smiles so breathlessly as he comes to know the buzz of her, so very patient and pliant and velvet where Michael is chaotic and melodic and starlight. She feels piecemeal under his many eyes, falling apart and coming together beneath the ceaseless watcher’s intruding presence. There’s a humming in their joining, a relentless song that drives her to create her own fractals on the stone carpet

Jon bends to her will, gliding effortlessly over the floor as he hums her tune…

She’s never heard herself before…

Not like this…

“Thank you,” Helen croons. “I never knew it could be like this…” Her voice hangs in the air, vibrating the light between them until Jon can practically  _ see _ what she means. “And I’m sorry for how I reacted… I know you were only trying to help me…”

Jon smiles; it’s smaller than hers, but there’s still too many teeth for a human mouth. His eyes glow with delight and fill Helen’s mouth with longing and her ears with  _ Understanding _ . “We’re all built for something, Helen… You’ve finally found your calling… and I’m so glad that I got to see you bloom.”

The lights go violet, and Michael fades into the mirrors, hopping through the distorted reflections as they catch him from their periphery. Helen spins Jon around the carpet of stone and wildflowers, and the humming in their throats finally comes to a close.


End file.
